


Gravity Grift

by tibrstar



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2019-10-25 22:57:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17734238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tibrstar/pseuds/tibrstar
Summary: Kytatrina is a grifter on the run. First as a young woman just passing her sweet sixteen, finding a home in the weird town of Gravity Falls with a grifter trying to save her from herself. Enjoying a mind crooked enough to keep up with her own, and the secrets she uncovers hidden behind locked doors.Then again as an adult following old roads and reminiscing. Finding her way back to the only home she can remember with any fondness, despite a vague memory of terror, that draws her back.Bon appetit.





	1. Chapter 1

    Weird things happened all over. Monsters, magic, curses, aliens, the list went on and on. And sometimes, just every once in a while things couldn’t really be explained without a ton of holes. But the common man wanted the ooh and ahh without admitting real danger. A rush of adrenaline without the pain that could follow from overly sharp teeth and claws. Thrill seekers who didn’t want to get their clothing dirty, or chip a nail. And from that need came the supply, conmen who were looking to retire but still enjoy a good sell of bad product.

    Sideshow attractions began growing roots all over, spooky but not terrifying. Intriguing but not horrifying like the attractions at passing carnivals. Small things everyone in the area already knew about but people passing through would normally scoff at. The difference between the Wendigo that haunted the woods at night, and the mysterious beasts no one could name but were already dead. Something the people could see, touch if they were brave enough, and take pictures with.

    It didn’t help that her guardian had been a hoarder, and in general a terrible person. Kytatrina had learned at a young age that junk could be treasure, at least to someone else, watching her guardian pay money they didn’t have for just one more piece of brass junk no one else could possibly want. Which lead to her hustling in school, finding used items and selling them to fellow students, and then going so far as to sell them to her teachers for a bit of extra credit. But it didn’t really kick off until she had an assignment in school, her subject was none other than the father of scam P.T. Barnum himself.

    After that she began looking into every sideshow stop in the US. The hawkers of fake dreams became  Kytatrina’s favourite people, her own father had been a conman of sorts. Where other kids dreamed of going to Disneyland, Kytatrina scrambled to save up to visit the dinosaur shark by Fort Walton Beach, the only living werewolf in the Everglades. And as she grew older she stashed her money to buy a car of her own and began plotting the ultimate road trip.

    Even not having been raised with her father, that truth twisting had managed to make its way into her veins, a teller of tall tales and able to sell slushies to eskimos. Give her time she’d make her way to solid ice in a few years, probably. She was only thirteen  years old the slushy thing was impressive all its own. If pressed she couldn’t explain why scamming people was so fun, instead of using her persuasive powers for good so to speak, but who was she to steal away peoples opportunity to learn a valuable life lesson? When going with her guardian to buy a new car Kytatrina  showed up on the lot wide eyed and looking anxious, like chum in the water to the salesman who saw her first.

    Two years later and three states over, Kytatrina had cried Cadillac tears as she stroked the rust speckled roller skate in the lot. The man who had the misfortune of falling into her claws had a daughter her age, one the young woman saw pictures of on his screensaver before he unlocked his computer, and Kytatrina managed to wrangle a lower apr out of the poor bastard. As well as the car lot waving registration, transfer, and the sales tax after Kytatrina told several bullshit stories about her and her own father tinkering on the car, doing odd jobs to afford it. Kytatrina could barely remember what the man looked like, though if her guardian was to be believed she looked quite a lot like him. All of which she heard about as her guardian lectured her for hours, and hours about being a terrible person.

    A little under a year after that, Kytatrina and her guardian found themselves trapped in New Mexico. The constant need for moving had to do with family drama or so she’d been told. This time she turned to the church, a local one that took on the occasional charity case of it was pitiful enough. While it chafed her, Kytatrina managed to be the most pitiful creature anyone had ever seen, plucking heartstrings and taking them in for over four thousand dollars. After that she was on her own, her guardian kicking Kytatrina out at fifteen to make it on her own. That worked just fine for her, Kytatrina had been the bread winner for years, making her way farther west to California. Home of the biggest conmen the US had ever seen.

    California was both a blessing and a curse, after the young woman had obtained a fake ID stating she was a few years older than her actual sixteen. Kytatrina thrived at first, opening a talent agency where she did manage to get people placed. For a fee, a rather large fee, most of which Kytatrina placed in a few bank accounts under different names, to avoid losing everything should she get caught. Which she did. A few times along the state before working her way farther north aiming for Canada. This time with only a few hundred bucks in cash and change, she got as far as Oregon before running out of funds, and wouldn’t you know it there was a sign for a tourist trap. Where there were tourist traps there were tourists, and Kytatrina was feeling just anti social enough for petty larceny to get her to the next major city. One where she could hustle a grand or so before moving on again. Leading to the present... 

                        - **Gravity Falls 1991**

“Come one, come all! See the mind numbing mysteries inside the Mystery Shack!’

    Kytatrina rolled her eyes, the man trying to sell everyone their next serving of bullshit even went so far as to wear an eyepatch. It was clear that when he was younger he’d been fit, now he was a solid mass of a man barking down a welcome to tourists. There was something familiar about him, though Kytatrina couldn’t put her finger on it. As she pondered on it, she followed the rest of the sheep into the Mystery Shack, sidling close to a lovey couple and slipping the man’s money clip out of his back pocket. Peeling off most of it, she crept closer to them as they examined a stuffed creature of some sort. It was easier to slide it back into the woman’s purse, leaning into her and then reaching around her after putting the almost empty clip in her purse.

“It’s a bunch of bullshit, isn’t it?’ She asked without expecting an answer, half finished cigarette hanging from her mouth unlit. “But it definitely gives you the shivers in a mad science kind of way.’

    Unsurprising the couple made little noises of discomfort and shoved past her, assuaging any guilt that may have tried assaulting her later. Rude bastards, Kytatrina watched them wander somewhere else to gawk as the tour had briefly paused in the room. So she did the same, fleecing the tourists that weren’t clever enough to keep their money in a naughty place away from shifty characters. On a mental count, as the tour began to wind down, Kytatrina figured that she’d made out with a few hundred dollars. Not bad for a first go, metal wristbands of a couple watches pinching her skin where she’d shoved them underneath her clothing.

“Thank you all for coming! Tell your friends, tell them to tell their friends, we’re opened all year round and sometimes we find new things in the woods that you’ve never seen in your life!’ The voice called from the register now and again, Kytatrina picking up a small notebook with the Mystery Shack sign printed on it. “There’s always something new to see, some new mystery to discover!’

    When it was her turn to pay, the greedy eye that had been watching each customer place items on the counter, was staring at her with an uncomfortable intensity. Lips twitching into a smile, she tucked errant locks of hair behind her ear, and was only slightly unsettled to watch a smile slowly curve the man’s lips. The smile wound up being more a bearing of teeth, a warning maybe? For a second Kytatrina thought that maybe he’d seen her lifting off people, but he’d never been looking when she’d done it. And he definitely hadn’t had time to look at any possible security footage, so her smile didn’t falter one bit as she took her change and left the Shack to sit in her car.

    There was a thrill to pick pocketing she hadn’t found anywhere else, lighting the unfinished cigarette and taking a slow drag. All around her tourists were getting in their cars, climbing onto buses, and not a single outraged cry about anything missing. Given the spell that the proprietor had cast Kytatrina wasn’t all that surprised. Even she had found herself charmed a few times, distracted from the task at hand. Especially when his voice got low, little more than a growl as he warned about the curses on certain items. It pulled you in, tugged at you, made you want to look closer. When he whispered about some mystical night a beast had been wandering about you could almost feel the mist tangling around your ankles. He was a fantastic salesman, Kytatrina going still as she put every ounce of herself into listening for anyone else left behind. No one. Everyone else had left.

    More than satisfied, Kytatrina started pulling out money from every which place on her person. Pockets, waistband, the cups of her bra, the straps, each portion was carefully unfolded into one hand as it became a stack. Each bill all faced the same way, and as soon as she had that done she put them into monetary order, biggest to smallest. Fifty, one hundred, one fifty, two hundred, two fifty, two seventy, two nintety, three ten, three thir-

“I want my cut of that when you’re done counting.’

    The yelp that escaped her hurt her throat, the bills crumpling in her fist as her head snapped to see the proprietor just beginning to lean down to rest in her passenger window. The eye patch was gone, as well as the suit jacket, proving that his shoulders were just that broad. He must have been a bruiser, probably still was going by the way his spade sized hands were half curled inside her car. Her danger sense was screeching despite the fact that he looked like an amiable uncle, smiling around the cigar in his mouth that smoldered as he breathed.

“Jesus H fuckin’ Christ! Wha- I’m not giving you my money, I paid for that shirty little notebook already and that’s all I took from you.’

    When in doubt bravado your way out. It had gotten Kytatrina through quite a few sticky spots, at least when she was in a crowd. There wasn’t a crowd now, and those obnoxious rings on his fingers didn’t seem so decorative now… No, now they looked like brass knuckles, which is probably some old bruiser habit he’d gotten into.

“Cute.’ Thick fingers tugged at the car door lock, around the same time he tugged open the door and attempted to slide into the car in a fluid motion. As it was he was jammed tight before forcing the seat back into one of Kytatrina’s boxes holding her stuff. “We both know you were pickin’ the pockets of everyone in the place. Now you can be a good little girl and fork over my share or-’

“Or?’ There was a fine line between bravado and stupidity, she was used to slinking along it until something came to mind. “Look, I’m sorry if you couldn’ hustle more money outta people but you’re not takin’ mine.’

“Or I’ll have to bust up that pretty face of yours.’ He finished as though she hadn’t spoke, as if he hadn’t paused to give her an opportunity to give in. “Sure would be a shame, you’re just a kid! Too young to start lookin’ like a gargoyle.’

“Wait which is it? Am I cute or am I pretty?’ Offering a winsome smile, her left hand that had been resting on her thigh moved to the small club she kept clipped onto her driver side door. “I’m not sure if you’re just threatenin’ me or flirtin’ with me.’

“As long as you’re as smart as you are cute, flirting is an option that’s on the table.’ Faster than she’d thought he could move, the proprietor lunged towards her even as Kytatrina started to lift the club to swing. “But not if you’re goin’ to pull out those claws, kitten. We’ll have a disagreement that you’re not going to come out on top of.’

“Look, I don’t know what you think is goin’ on but-‘

    She stopped, there was that baring of teeth again, this time up close and personal. The smell of cigars and liquor oozed underneath the cologne bath he’d given himself, feeling the warmth of his cigar’s cherry near her cheek.

“Okay, okay, listen here you little shit.’ Snatching the small club away, he settled back into his seat, tossing it into his other hand to grab her wrist as she made a move to dart out the driver door. “I saw you pick at least five diff’rent pockets, take two watches, and I’m sure you grabbed up more than that besides.’

    So he was very good, Kytatrina admitted to herself even as she reluctantly settled back into her seat. She had been very, _very_ careful to make sure that no one had seen her and yet.

“Fifteen percent.’ His howl of laughter hurt her ears, hazel eyes narrowing at him as he dramatically wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. “What? Fifteen is a perfectly reasonable amount considerin’ I only picked five pockets. That’s three percent each.’

“That I saw.’ He corrected, fingers tightening around her wrist as he lightly tapped her nose with her own club. “You’re good kid, but I’ve been doin’ this a lot longer than you.’

“.... One watch, and a hundred fifty dollars.’ Giving her wrist an experimental tug, yeah it wasn’t going anywhere, Kytatrina side eyed the older man. “Or you can start beating up a poor, defenseless girl in her car.’

    Her voice lowered, a hint of “poor pitiful me” entering it as her chin dropped slightly to look at him through her lashes. And for a moment, she saw him soften, just a flicker of something before it was gone and he gave her wrist a warning twist.

“Jesus! You are good, how old are you?’

“Twenty-three.’ Was the reluctant response, sullen, even though that was a blatant lie. She was only just coming up on her seventeenth birthday in August. “And you’re what thirty-three?’

“Flattery will get you nowhere right now, kitten.’ Said the proprietor though Kytatrina could tell that was a lie by the way he was smiling at her. “Two fifty and a watch, that’s cutting even.’

“I didn’t even get that much!’ She protested, adding a bit of childish whine to her voice, catching his calculatingly look. He was a clever bastard, and Kytatrina could tell that he’d been at this far longer than she had. “Look, I’m just tryin’ to get to Canada, Vancouver. To do that I need to make some quick cash, and move on. … One seventy-five.  That’s all you can offer you.’

“Who are you runnin’ from?’

    Were her ears deceiving her or was his tone softer? Without her noticing the sun had finished setting, the only light was the one over the door that seemed to be on some sort of timer. The fingers around her wrist loosened, his breath escaping in a low sigh as he rubbed the bridge if his nose where his glasses had been resting.

“Didja… didja kill anyone?’ He finally asked, pulling out a matchbox and relighting his cigar that had gone out.

“No. Just kind of… took a lot of money, did some forgery… upwards of about a quarter mil before I lost most of it when I ran.’ At the sound of his snort, Kytatrina’s teeth grit. “I thought I had every corner carefully cut and apparently missed one alright?!’

“Oh?’

    The mocking undertone made her wish that she still had the little club to hit him, hard. Silently fuming as he chuckled under his breath, probably thinking she’d had some sort of female brain fart. That wasn’t the case, she’d been very damned careful. It had been someone else who’d opened their botoxed mouth and got her caught. Counting out the money she’d promised, Kytatrina held it out to him while trying to see his expression in the semi dark.

“So who’s comin’ after you? Some sweetheart you said no to?’

“No.’ She snapped, pulling the money back.

    Shouldering out of the car before he could stop her, listening to him muttering curses as he rolled out of her car and stood with his arms crossed on the roof. He didn’t seem so hostile anymore, his body language more relaxed. Walking around the front of the car, he leaned in and pulled out the car keys, to swing around his finger.

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry.’ Hands going into his pockets, the proprietor was walking towards her, cane tucked under his arm. “Who’s so scary you’re tryin’ to make it to Canada?’

“The FBI? Possibly CIA?’

    And if she sounded really proud of herself it was only because she’d been very surprised to find one of the agents sniffing around asking for her boss. And then again when there started to be more applicants to her services than she was used to, and they asked much more probing questions.

“What the hell kinda business were you tryin’ to run, kid?!’

“Well…’ her shoulders rolled in a shrug. “I mean it wasn’t a Ponzi scheme per se, but-‘

    His long silence was a balm to be honest, there was a tension to the air now. The government was not a fan of the first attempt, or the ones after it. Hers hadn’t been one per se but it could have gone that way if she’d had time to get some good momentum going. She could have gotten so much money she could have retired to Venezuela where there was no extradition. That had been a dream, for when she was old, like thirty-five. Ages away. And then the authorities had trampled all over it.

“I cut and ran as soon as I smelled wood, didn’t even wait for smoke, but with the counterfeiting and the laundering…’

“Kid… that money ain’t gonna get you to Canada, and even if you stole your way up there-’ he trailed off, absently taking hold of the cane to tap it against his shoulder as he thought.

“I’m not a kid, alright? I’ve been taking care of myself for years and I’ll be fine on my own.’

“How about you work with me through the busy season, tourists are about to be pourin’ in like water to a bucket? And then after you should have enough for a small place in the great wild north. Or,’ he paused, Kytatrina could feel the smile even if she couldn’t quite make it out in this lighting. “You might like this place enough to retire early from your life of crime.’

“So semi honest work or pick pocketing my way up the coast to Canada?’ Tone skeptical, she watched him toss her keys back into the car, only to pop the hood which confused her. “Wait, hold on, what’re you-’

    Kytatrina wasn’t able to finish the sentence as she watched him flip open the hood and pull something out of his pocket. Creeping closer, her brow was furrowed until outrage cleared it, watching him flick open a knife and cut the cables to her battery before lifting it out of her car.

“You’re at least stuck for the weekend, Steve is out of town for a family reunion and the local garage won’t open til he’s back.’

“You son of a bi-‘

“Language! Ladies don’t talk that way.’

    He was mocking her, battery slung over his shoulder like a briefcase as he leaned on his cane. The urge to kick it out from beneath him was almost overwhelming.

“Give the Shack a week, if you hate it that’s fine. You'll give me a cut of what you make in that time lifting wallets, and then be on your way.’

“This is… it’s…’

“Yeah, yeah, but it’s already dark and with the woods the way they are it’s not safe to walk into town.’ Opening the door, fully illuminated by the light over it. “The name’s Stan by the way, just Stan. And you’re welcome.’

    Kytatrina stood in the empty dirt lot staring at him for a long moment, unable to properly formulate any sort of response. Caught in her throat was a scream, or an hour of cursing, or-

“And you are-‘

“Pissed off!’ She snapped, shoving past him, hands going into her pockets as she headed towards the stairs assuming that’s where the living situation was.

“Kytatrina Alexandria Nemra… that’s a mouthful and half.’

    Whirling around on her heel, Kytatrina’s hand slapped her back pocket where her wallet had been. She hadn’t even felt him pull it out, dashing forward to snatch it out of his hands. Of course she’d run into a Tricky Dick with her actual ID in her wallet.

“Says here.’ He lifted his hand above their head as he squinted at the hard plastic. “You’re only 16. Jesus H… I was… I mean-‘

    While he was dumbfounded by his own thoughts, Kytatrina snatched her wallet back and crossed her arms.

“That’s the fake one, if I’m under 18 cops are more lenient.’

“Uh huh… sure. Yeah.’ He gave his face a couple slaps, shaking his head. “You. Upstairs. All the way to the top in the attic. There’s a lock and everything just… just go, alright?’

“You’ll fix my battery in the morning?’

“Kid I ain’t a mechanic, you’ll have to wait for Steve. And while you’re waiting I’ll try to get you on a better path before you wind up in prison or worse.’

    Hissing between her teeth without realizing it, she stalked up the stairs and slammed the door behind her. She’d try to figure out the battery problem tomorrow, it could be that hard to splice the wires together right? …. right?


	2. Chapter 2

    A knock at the door surprised her, blinking as she stared up at the light coming through the triangle window high on the wall. Falling asleep was not something that she remembered doing. The last thing Kytatrina remembered was staring at what looked like a plow of some sort and thinking fondly how much it would hurt if she could manage to swing it and hit Stan right in the chest. Slowly uncurling out of the nest of blanket and old clothing she’d found in a couple chests, she gave the idea a bit more though before reluctantly letting it go. 

“Hey! I got scrambled mix in the pan if you’re interested, and coffee.’ Another heavy rap on the door, when she didn’t answer right away. “You’re smart enough to know you need to eat, come down when you’re ready.’

    Stan’s heavy tread down the stairs was easy to follow, Kytatrina flinging herself the rest of the way out of bed to stretch after she stood. On the one hand she was tempted to refuse breakfast, her body was used to skipping a meal here and there. On the other, she hadn’t eaten since yesterday morning and her stomach was snarling to get a move on. Slumping across the room, she tugged relentlessly at her ponytail holder until it came loose, pulling the loose hairs from it before finger combing her hair into some type of order and resecuring it. 

    Breakfast, whatever it was, didn’t smell terrible, Kytatrina thought slinking into the kitchen and grabbing a fork to stab into the pan. A few thoughtful chews later,  she grabbed the pan and brought it to the table. Moving back towards the coffee pot, and the glaringly pink mug next to it, Kytatrina paused then slowly pushed the mug away. A low chuckle from the entryway finalized what had been a tentative idea, picking up the sugar and milk from the counter. Mixing in a bit of each into the pot itself, she swirled the caffeine refusing to look towards him or even offer a greeting. 

“Good thing I’ve already had my pot for the morning.’ Stan muttered as he plopped down at the table. He paused mid motion opening a newspaper when he noticed the lack of plate. “You got somethin’ against dishes?’

“I don’t like cleanin’ them, and since you cooked I’m the one who has to wash.’ 

    That earned a laugh, one that started as a chuckle and became the obnoxious roar it had been the day before. It only slowly petered away at the dark look the young girl sent him as her fork tapped the pan. It wasn’t that he thought she’d actually attack him with silverware, but…. 

“Anyways kid, like I was trying to tell you last night, you’re trying too hard to rise high. You’re gonna burn out before you even really know what life is.’

    Ignoring this pearl of wisdom, Kytatrina took a few more bites and then lifted the coffee pot that was still steaming. The look on Stan’s face was priceless as the girl ignored the scalding temperature to get two decent swallows and then put it down. Well, seemed to ignore would be a better term, internally Kytatrina was screaming, her chin resting on the heel of her hand as her head turned to look out the window hiding the tears of pain that were welling in her eyes. It was an intimidation tactic, one that usually worked, later she would take the time to regret highly most of her life choices. 

“... Okay so you’re a tough as nails, kind of bad ass kid. Doesn’t change the fact that you’re gonna burn out.’ 

    The smell of his cigar reached her nose, gaze flicking towards it as she craved her own cigarettes. Seeing that Kytatrina was beginning to pay attention Stan tried to make his expression soften a bit. It didn’t work well at all, no one would ever be able to accuse him of being mentor material. “I know how you’re feeli-’

“No.’ Eyes narrowed, she cut Stan off before he could finish his sentence, gaze lifting from his cigar to meet his gaze. “You don’t. And this is not when I’m going to share my “obviously tragic backstory”.’ 

    Her fingers made quotes in the air as she poured as much sarcasm into the phrase as she could. “I’m being held hostage and I  _ refuse _ to succumb to Stockholm Syndrome!’

“Look!  **You** robbed  _ me _ , you smart mouthed little shit! I’m not holding you hostage!’ His voice grated and rasped staring at her incredulously for a moment before getting angry. “It’s either I turn you into the cops or you work with me for a week. Are we clear?’

“Crystal.’ 

“Would you really rather go to jail, maybe prison before you even turned eighteen?’

“.... No.’

“I didn’t think so.’ Taking a few more drags on his cigar, the paper picked up again with a smug snap, Stan jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Then go get to work and earn your travelling money. There’s a ton of boxes I need moved to get towards a stuffed bear I need for an exhibit.’

    Later, to herself, Kytatrina had to admit that working in the Mystery Shack was not a fate worse than death. Stan had a lot more going on behind the scenes than she’d thought. There was a machine of some sort that said it could reverse time for forty-five seconds, for all the good that was gonna do. An old typewriter that had odd symbols in the place of some letters that she’d never seen before. Clearly broken but she couldn’t resist running her finger over the keys where the symbols resided. It was all still junk but at least it was interesting junk. 

    The best piece of junk was a stack of old notes that looked like it belonged to Sam on Quantum Leap. Kytatrina got distracted from the what she was supposed to be doing, perching on the boxes instead to read the information on the pages. It looked like it was about the pyramids in Egypt, or maybe South America? Or… wherever it was, the scribbling all over the papers was crazy. She could only kind of follow what the numbers were doing, even after there were several letters added in, and an infinity symbol. 

    That was a lie, she couldn’t understand the math at all, but the notes themselves were great! Old rituals, a powerful being of unknown origin, who’s name was…Well she couldn’t quite make it out but there was the word Cipher written in all caps that led her to believe she had to break some sort of code. Squinting down at the numbers listed, she angled the paper trying to avoid the shadows that kept growing on the page. Stupid lighting and old, stained paper. Kytatrina slid off the box and slowly made her way towards the door, muttering under her breath. Maybe if she could get them in better lighting, she might be able to figure out what they sai-

“No wonder you can’t keep a legal job,’ Stan reached through the door and yanked the pages right out of her hands. 

“Hey!’ 

    Hand outstretched to try and take them back, Kytatrina paused when she saw the look on his face. Stan looked odd, sort of sick to his stomach, and Kytatrina’s whole body froze as she tried to figure out if she should apologize. She highly doubted that Stan was the kind of smart to understand what the papers were talking about either, but the way his fingers reverntly skimmed over the page made her nervous.

“I um… I didn’t mean to get them out of order. I’m sorry.’

“Where did you find this?’

    Stan’s voice was an odd kind of quiet. The type reserved for terrible memories rolling through the mind, hands shaking as he stared down at the papers. Pointing towards the general area, Kytatrina bit back a smart remark as it had suddenly gotten really personal. She could practically feel the emotions trying to weigh her down too. Taking a side step towards the door, Kytatrina was more than happy to let him wallow in whatever this was all by himself. When Stan’s head snapped upwards as soon as she moved, Kytatrina held very still.

“Look, I ain’t mad, I just need to know where exactly-’ he paused when his voice cracked, taking a moment to clear his throat. “I’ve been looking for these scribbles, y’know? A friend of mine needs them.’

“I just kind of found them between a couple boxes.’ She mumbled. 

    Those were more than scribbles, she knew that but not what it was worth. Too late to figure it out now, leading him towards the stack of boxes. Now that she was paying attention the whole box underneath looked to be full of paper scraps, reaching in and snatching one before Stan shouldered her out of the way eagerly. There was a glint to his eyes that wasn’t greed, it was something else.

“You could say excuse me.’ 

“Shut your yap! Go restock the shelves by the register, the last tourists that came through really liked the keychains.’

    Self preservation said go, but her natural curiosity made it hard to move her feet. What she really wanted to do was snatch another one of those papers to try and figure out what was going on. But with the way Stan was standing over them, there wasn’t a way for her to do so without getting caught. Slowly moving towards the door, Kytatrina could hear him muttering to himself. 

“Okay, okay good. If I could just figure out what the hell he meant by-‘

    Pausing, she hovered near the door. Who was he? Fingers on one hand holding onto the door frame, the other hand moved to the folded bit of paper in her pocket. Gingerly pulling it out to look down at it, there was a single eye staring up at her from the only straightened bit of paper. 

“What’re you still doin’ here?’ Stan barked, making her jump. “Didn’t I tell you to go stock the damn shelves?!’

    Knuckles aching from shoving her hand into the pocket of her jeans and almost missing, Kytatrina dipped out the door. Near the register she found a box full of a rambling selection, kicking it lightly before sitting down behind the counter to pull out the paper. The eye stared up at her, a feeling of disappointment welling up in her chest seeing it looked like a stupid doodle with a ton of rapid scribbles around it. She’d been wrong, the scribbles were just about a dumb book someone had been writing. 

    Piece of paper shoved behind the register after she stood, Kytatrina haphazardly shoved things onto the cork board covered in hooks. What kind of stupid character name was Bill Cipher anyways?


	3. Chapter 3

“Welcome to the Mystery Shack! I’m Mr. Mystery, let me show you around.’

    It had been well over a week, Steve the mechanic had come and gone. Though she wouldn’t say it out loud, she really liked being in the Shack, it was also loads of fun fleecing tourists. Some of them were willing to believe anything, and others wanted a reason to be skeptical. Absolutely ridiculous, the lot of them, but she was really getting into it. 

    Kytatrina had even overheard one lady mocking Stan under her breath, talking about how he didn’t even know he had a real treasure hidden among all the junk. Which had, of course, caught the young girl’s attention until she realized that the woman was talking about the iguana by the small bookshelf. The idiot was claiming it was in fact a long extinct species from South America.

    The “preserved dinosaur young” that lay curled in a glass ball wasn’t even technically an iguana but after all the things Stan had super glued onto it, Kytatrina thought it looked a little like Godzilla. If you squinted just right. Sort of. She was still trying to talk him into making a Grabboid tongue, from a creature she’d seen in a movie once. Trying being the operative word, Stan wanted exotic but not something people would immediately know was fake. 

    With her attempt falling flat, she should have been disappointed but she couldn’t be overly upset when he showed her where he’d gotten some of his ideas for exhibits. Apparently Gravity Falls had all sorts of weird creatures hiding in the woods that surrounded the area. She didn’t believe any of them, and more than half seemed like something Jim Henson had come up with while he was drunk and didn’t sleep for a few days. The information was scattered across papers that Stan had found in the stack Kytatrina showed him. Pictures of hawks with tentacles spilling from its belly, or had the head of an octopus but a body of a hawk? There was a Hide Behind that looked like a tree with branch arms and legs. 

    Most of it was ridiculous, but a couple of them had her unable to properly sleep for days. For whatever reason the cowls really fucked her head in, flying cow creatures were just unholy as far as Kytatrina was concerned. Part owl, part cow was most definitely out. Pellet patties were somehow a terrifying thought that her brain clung  to. There were a few that seemed cute, like the question quail, and the cousins of it the Aposto-Finch and Exclamation Parakeet. She’d doodled a few of those on receipt paper during down time between tourist groups. 

    For the most part though, there was a lot of ignoring Stan. He’d gotten pretty damned smug when she’d still been there after Steve had fixed her car. And then again when the week had closed and gone, and the second after that, but Kytatrina was still there. If he shot her one more smirk there was no way she was going to avoid getting violent, or even. Whichever came first. 

    One morning after she’d shambled her way down from the attic, Kytatrina made her way directly to the coffee pot and stopped. On the side of the obnoxiously pink coffee cup Stan kept leaving out for her, Kytatrina saw a contemptibly drawn cat face scrawled on the ceramic with permanent marker. It was too early, much too early. Eyes narrowed, she hooked the cup with one finger and brought it to the table to let it fall with a thunk. Stan’s low chuckle from behind the newspaper made her smile, though it wasn’t a friendly one, digging into the cupboards to find the cast iron skillet.

    It was definitely worth it, standing next to the table spinning it in her hand before bringing it down on the coffee cup hard. She heard it crack and then come apart, pieces flying outwards in all directions. The best part was the inhuman noise that escaped Stan’s throat, his chair flipping backwards as he tried to avoid getting hit by shrapnel. Almost better than coffee, she carefully walked away from the table to rinse the back of the pan grinning. She could hear Stan scrambling to get onto his feet, sputtering half finished curses. 

    Humming, pleased with herself, she pulled a Mystery Shack mug from the cupboard and began making herself a cup of coffee. A moment later she was cursing herself as Stan yanked her arm to turn her around to face him, hot coffee spilling over her hand and down her front. 

“What the hell was that?!’

“Step off, old man! You know what that was for.’ She snarled back at him, yanking her arm loose to put the cup on the counter. 

    Hand lifting towards her mouth, she blew on her hand as she glared back at him. A part of her was worried, but it was very small now that she’d been injured. Stan’s hands kept clenching and unclenching as he stayed leaned in close and stayed there. 

“If you didn’t like the damned cup you could have just thrown it away, like a sane human being.’

    It was on the tip of her tongue to remind him she’d done that already, and had found it on the counter again the next morning. But he’d reached out and grabbed a handful of her shirt to shake her, Kytatrina biting her own tongue when his knuckles scraped over the lightly burned skin. Smacking at his hand hurt too, the coffee had been freshly brewed, but she was bouncing back and forth between pissed off and concerned for her well being. 

“You get that cleaned up, and then you can take your ungrateful, crazy, half-child tantrum bullshit outside!’ Each descriptive word was punctuated by a shake, before suddenly releasing her to fall back against the counter. “Go walk off your pissy mood before I teach you to respect a man’s property the hard way.’

    Mouth opening, Kytatrina was ready to talk shit to his back until he suddenly looked over his shoulder at her with narrowed eyes. Whatever quip had been building in her throat died, Stan was really pissed off, hand lifting to deliberately brush off a few shards of the coffee cup from his wife beater. Instead, she licked the back of her hand gingerly and blew on it, breaking eye contact to look down at her shirt and the large stain on the front. What? Her talk shit? Pfft, no! 

    She could feel his eyes on her as she “casually” cleaned up the mess, sweeping up ceramic, wiping the table and the counter where the coffee had spilled. After that she also “casually” made herself a quick pb and j, poured a new cup of coffee, and sauntered out of the Shack for the woods. As soon as the door closed behind her, Kytatrina let out a breath, leaning against it for a moment before going out in the yard and giving a slow spin. 

    She’d only been in the woods a few times, and even then it had been in her car to get to town. Still, it was broad daylight, and from where she stood she could see that it was well lit. And she had missed going out in the woods. When she’d been much younger there’d been woods near the place her guardian had decided to live, Kytatrina had spent hours coming up with adventures. Now as an adult, sort of, ish, she felt like she was being put in time out unjustly. 

    Moodily, she took a bite of her sandwich as she kept looking at the trees. Stan had just wanted her to leave, he hadn’t said that she had to go into the woods, but there was something tempting about it. Chewing her bite slowly, she decided that finding a clearing in the woods wouldn’t be that terrible. It might even be peaceful after dealing with tourists all day almost every day, and then listening to Stan muttering under his breath, or offering unwanted advice, or his snoring she could hear all the way up in the attic. 

    Besides, if she went missing all day he’d be restocking the Shack on his own. And doing all the sweeping and cleaning. Her next bite was a bit more aggressive, chewing as she smiled to herself. Stan hadn’t been the one who got hurt this morning, she was the one with coffee burns that had started to itch. So it was only fair if she took the whole day off, and Stan was not a fan of the woods. He’d rather viciously yanked up a sapling that had grown too close to a Shack when Kytatrina had pointed it out. She’d thought it was kind of cool against the obviously far older trees, it hadn’t occurred to her that he’d just kill it. 

    Five minutes into the woods, Kytatrina started humming somewhat timelessly. She hadn’t really picked a song yet, but the noise slowly changed to rhythm, lowering to sound more like the strum of a bass guitar. And then she was humming head ticking from side to side in time with the song she hadn’t quite remembered the lyrics to. Finishing the last of her coffee, and licking the last stickiness from her fingers, Kytatrina kept walking as she hummed. Within ten minutes she was dancing as she was walking, shoulders bouncing as she slid her feet along the forest floor. 

_ You ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog! Whinin’ all the time! Bum bum bum bum… You ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog! Cryin’ all the time! Too dumb to catch a rabbit and you ain’t no friend of mine! _

    Didn’t matter to her that the lyrics were wrong, that wasn’t the point. Coffee mug held like an oversized mic, she mimicked moves she’d seen on VH1. Which for the most part were pretty spot on, versus her bastardization of the lyrics, she was kind of in love with Elvis even if he had already died years before. Spotting a log, she grinned, hopping up onto it to better get onto the toes of her shoes. Her poise was perfect, but her choice of perch was not, the log that she’d jumped onto wasn’t nearly as secure as it looked, and behind it was a not so gentle slope. 

     Repeating the lyrics, she didn’t notice as she finished her reputation with a howl that shifted into a sharp yip as the log pulled out of the dirt and rot to tip her off. Caught off guard she flipped an almost full rotation only to land on her shoulders, lower body slamming into the ground and stealing her air as her spine fully made contact and her body slid a foot or so. This, Kytatrina decided, was also Stan’s fault. Coughing a few times as she tried to get her breath back, Kytatrina made the executive decision to lay there a moment. Everything hurt, eyes opening that she hadn’t realized she’d closed. But the wind moving through the leaves was kind of soothing, though it didn’t look like they were moving.

    Actually, now that she was focusing, the leaves seemed a bit closer than way up there, Kytatrina’s head falling to the side to stare at the bushes that were rustling. Probably a bunny, Oregon had bunnies, right? Yeah, definitely a bunny causing all that noise, the sweet and sourish kind of smell coming from that direction. A cute, non violent bunny the size of a dog… that seemed fair. 

    The cute face that poked out wasn’t a bunny’s, and after a moment it wasn’t as cute with the teeth that showed from curled back lips and the harsh hiss. Unable to move yet, she watched claws scrape on the ground in her direction, and then lumber forward with a scream. That cured the paralysis, rolling over and scrambling to her feet, cursing Stan and his stupid pink coffee mug.


	4. Chapter 4

    At the very least the first thing she did wasn’t running face first into a tree, that had happened a few times as a kid and her pride was still stinging. And she didn’t scream, partially because she was still wheezing, but she did do a stupid thing. As soon as she was on her feet she kicked in the direction of the badger to try and scare it off. To be fair she was bigger than it was, and most creatures could be scared off by a larger creature, or so she’d read. 

    Unfortunately the badger had been harried from its territory lashing out with its teeth, and managed to bite down hard enough its teeth penetrated the shoe. Her scream scared it almost as much as the sudden jerk as she yanked her foot free, moving back to hunker down and hiss at her again. Falling onto her ass, Kytatrina threw her coffee mug at its face. Briefly stunned from the hit to its forehead, Kytatrina was able to clamber to her feet with a piece of wood in hand  and swinging it down at its head. Snarling it backed into the bushes and when she didn’t follow, turned and ran off the way it had come. 

“Fuck…’ fingers still tight around the debris, Kytatrina gingerly put weight onto her bitten ankle and regretted it as the pain shot up her leg. 

    Her walk back towards the Shack was much slower than her leaving it, teeth clenched as every step burned on her injured foot. Taking the three steps gingerly, she shouldered open the door and made her way inside. 

“Yeesh! You get hit by a bus or somethin’?’ Stan called from his chair.

    Ignoring him, Kytatrina took a breath and slowly began half hopping her way into the kitchen. Plopping down into a chair she gingerly lifted her leg to rest her injured foot on her knee. It didn’t seem to be that bad, there wasn’t even that much blood on the cream of the back of Van’s sneaker. But after she untied it and pulled it off, the pressure on the wound was released and it began to bleed more freely.

“Hey kid?’ She was in the process of taking off her sock when Stan came into the kitchen. “What the hell happened to you?!’

“I got bit by a stupid badger.’ She growled out between gritted teeth, choking on a yelp when her ankle was pulled off her knee. Indignant she tried to kick at him and immediately regretted it.

    Hand lifting to roughly brush the tears from her eyes with the heel of her hand, Kytatrina choked back another pain sound as he prodded the area with his fingers. He didn’t look too concerned, so she assumed that it wasn’t as bad as it felt, gasping when he dropped her foot abruptly. Grinding her teeth, she watched Stan stand up and grab a bowl from the cupboard and fill it with hot water and some soap. 

“You’re supposed to pet things with your hand, not your foot.’ He commented as he pulled a clean cloth from the cupboard before coming back to the table. “I thought girls knew how to play nice with animals.’

“I wasn’t playin’ with it! The badger-’

    Her heated response was lost as he dunked her ankle into the hot water, seeing white as the cloth passed over the bite mark. Yanking at her foot again, she spilled half the water out the bowl, but he acted as though he hadn’t noticed. Continuing to wash the wound he tsked at the places where the skin had torn when Kytatrina had pulled her foot from the badger’s mouth. 

“I don’t think this needs stitches, but I bet it hurts like hell.’

“It does now!’

“Still bleedin’ pretty bad.’ Rinsing the cloth he lightly wrapped it around her ankle, scooting his chair back to stand. “Keep that off the floor.’

    Tossing the bowl into the sink, Kytatrina listened to his footsteps as he went to grab the first aid kit from the bathroom. She shouldn’t have kicked at the badger, even as she’d done it there’d been a flash of instant regret even before the badger had a chance to bite. Sniffling, Kytatrina angrily wiped a tear off her cheek as she kept her foot from touching the floor. It wasn’t the first time an animal had bitten her, or clawed at her, but she had forgotten how much it hurt. Staring down at her ankle Kytatrina could see the rag was growing red quickly, hands curling into fists before leaning down to roll up the leg of her jeans. 

“Looks like it might be sprained too.’ 

    Eyes lifting to watch him come back into the kitchen, Kytatrina sniffed and shrugged. She didn’t trust her voice not to be all thick and pathetic as her ankle throbbed with the beat of her heart. 

“Give it here.’ Stan ordered sitting back down, patting his knee with one hand as the first aid kit landed with a thud on the table.

“Don’t you think I should go see a doctor?’ Hesitantly she complied, the last time she’d looked at the first aid kit she’d thought everything in there had been there since Vietnam… “Maybe it had rabies or somethin’.’

“Was it foamin’ at the mouth?’

“... no.’

“Then you’re probably fine.’ He shrugged away her concern and pulled out some squares of gauze. Hesitating a moment, he got up again and grabbed a bottle of whiskey. After handing it to her, Stan took hold of her ankle. “You might wanna take a couple swigs of that.’

    A part of her wanted to say she didn’t need it, that it wasn’t that bad. But then Stan placed the gauze over the bite and squeezed, Kytatrina let out a low hiss between her teeth and couldn’t help squirming as she reached for the bottle. Life would be great when it stopped hurting, though she’d also start getting worried if it happened quickly. All in all this was going to suck hella. 

“Just a couple, I don’t need you getting drunk.’

    Mockingly mouthing the words back at him, she twisted the cap off the bottle and took a drink large enough she had to fight coughing. And then another right after that that chased the first burn down her throat with barely a sizzle. When his grip loosened, she set the bottle down and looked anywhere but her ankle. It would eventually stop bleeding, and it seemed to hurt more when she looked at it even though she knew it was ridiculous. 

“The bleedin’ should stop soon.’

“Yeah, I know.’

“You let me know if it starts gettin’ red or your leg starts hurtin’.’ Squeezing again, he absently shushed her when she whimpered, holding her ankle in one hand as he reached for the antibiotic ointment. “Might have to get it amputated.’

    The hand that was reaching towards the bottle again paused, hazel eyes flicking towards Stan but he hadn’t looked up, and he didn’t seem to be smiling. Surely he was joking though? Kytatrina lightly tugging at her ankle, the idea made her uncomfortable. 

“Don’t worry, I hear they’ve got real good at gettin’ an even cut-’ he caught her ankle with both hands, squeezing tightly and sent her a crooked smile. “I’m just teasin’ you, kitten. It’s not that bad.’

“You’re a dick.’

“Yeah, yeah I am.’ Looking down at the wound, he sighed and continued holding her ankle. “I thought it was funny.’

    Arms crossing over her stomach, Kytatrina slouched down in the chair, hissing when that caused his grip to shift. But she didn’t curse at him, knowing it was her own fault, quickly wiping at the tears that ran down her cheeks with her fingers. When Stan slowly released pressure again, she looked. The blood was still seeping out slowly but not the same flow as before. Switching out the gauze, he sighed again and settled more comfortably though the grip of his hand was still tight near her ankle.

“Did you at least hit the badger?’

“Oh… I um, I owe you for a coffee mug.’ Kytatrina muttered towards her lap, clearing her throat and reaching for the bottle to take a drink. 

“What’re you- … did you throw a coffee mug at a badger?’ His incredulous tone irritated her, scowling at Stan as a smile started curling his lips. 

“Well I didn’t have anything else at the time and I panicked!’ 

    She was almost mad enough to try kicking out at him again, but the whiskey hadn’t had near enough time to make her stupid. Instead she turned her head and stared at the stairs to her left, trying to ignore Stan’s laughter as he slowly smeared antibiotic on her ankle. 

“Okay, okay, but you did hit it, right?’

“Yeah.’

“Such a tough ass kid.’

    Even though Kytatrina knew that he was mocking her, she couldn’t help smiling. It had been kind of bad ass in twenty twenty hindsight, considering how panicked she’d been. Bam! Right to the forehead. When Stan was still chuckling as he was wrapping her ankle in gauze, she snorted. He couldn’t have done it, would have missed by a mile. Wiggling her toes, she watched half of her foot disappear under thick wrapping. 

“Is all that necessary?’

“It stopped bleeding for now but when you stand up it’s gonna get a rush of blood. And then hoppin’ around is gonna shake it.’

“Okay, okay, I get it.’

“We’re gonna have to set you up down here somehow, goin’ up and down stairs would be dangerous.’ He scowled down at her ankle in his hands, before giving it a light tap and gently letting go. 

“I can just nest on the floor it’s fine, I don’t want your old nasty chair.’

“Nest?’

    Seeing his confusion, Kytatrina shrugged. 

“I mean like make a bed out of some blankets and some pillows.’ She looked upwards towards the attic. “There’s already stuff bunched together in that room you said I could use. … Do you um, do you have like a garbage bag I could use?’

“For what?’

    When she realized he wasn’t joking, she reached up and pulled a few small twigs from her hair without having to try hard to find them. Flicking them at his chest, she watched him absently brush them off as he realized. 

“I figure it’s like a cast, I shouldn’t get it wet right?’

“Huh, I didn’t think about that, but yeah. Probably should have showered before we got it fully wrapped up.’

“You’re a shit medic, Stan.’ Kytatrina yelped when he flicked the bandage, yanking her ankle off his lap and shouting as it hit the floor with a thud. 

    She saw a flicker of guilt pass across his face through her tears, wiping her eyes before standing and making her way towards the bathroom near the ballroom. Every step throbbed and ached, but she made it, tugging her shirt over her head after she walked thorough the door. Flicking it shut with her fingertips, she grabbed the hand towel and used it to wipe at the dirt had gone up the back of her shirt as she’d landed. Getting it wet she cleaned off standing in front of the sink, a shower could wait until later. Right now she wanted more of that whiskey and to fall asleep. 

    When Kytatrina made it back to the living room her bag was in front of the aquarium, as well as the makeshift bedding she’d set up in the attic. But most importantly was the bottle of whisky and what looked like a glass of water, both of which sounded amazing. Carefully lowering herself to the floor, she pulled a clean shirt out of her bag and changed quickly, before insinuating herself among the fabric and pillows. Buried under two blankets and wrapped around a pillow, she reached out to grab the whiskey and took one last long pull before deciding a nap was definitely in order before dealing with the rest of the day. 


	5. Chapter 5

    Pain in her ankle woke her as she kicked the wall in her sleep. Cursing under her breath, Kytatrina tugged at the blankets she’d tangled herself in to look at her foot. The bandage was a dark red, and she could see where the blood had seeped through to the blanket leaving spots. Carefully making her way onto her good foot, she balanced herself with a hand resting on the aquarium. Other than the cool glow of the aquarium, there wasn’t any light. 

    Half hopping into the kitchen, her hand blindly slapped at the wall until she hit the switch and the light came on. Seeing the first aid kit still on the table, Kytatrina huffed a sigh of relief and hobbled her way to a chair. It took her a minute to figure out how Stan had secured the bandage, and then another unwrapping it all and dabbing at the puncture marks that blood had begun to well out of. It didn’t look red, Stan’s teasing about amputation whispering through the back of her mind, and when she gently pressed on it the area didn’t seem hotter than normal. 

    Pulling out the roll of gauze, Kytatrina grimaced seeing that it was half gone. She wasn’t going to manage as thick a bandage as Stan had made but it shouldn’t have to be on the second go round. Right? Wrapping it like a sprained ankle, she pleased to see the blood didn’t immediately soak through. It was still throbbing like crazy though, and she wasn’t overly enamoured with the idea on walking on it. She also hadn’t meant to sleep the day away, eyeing the window and the darkness that was outside.  

    To be honest she hadn’t thought that Stan would let her sleep the day away, the first tour was at ten, which meant people were usually filling the gift shop by ten fifteen. Slowly easing off the chair, Kytatrina decided that would be her next stop. Firstly she could grab one of those eight ball canes that Stan sold, secondly she could get a few head ache pills from beneath the counter. She’d stashed a bottle there after her second day, there was only so much stupidity one person could take. 

    Kitchen light turned off behind her, she hobbled through the living room pausing only to grab the glass of water that had moved to the dinosaur skull to the door for the gift shop, eyeing the few steps with distaste. It was unholy that there should be so many steps in one house, taking the two steps carefully and shouldering open the door.  Moonlight and the dim lights of the display illuminated the gift shop, which looked way creepier even knowing everything in it was fake. 

    The Big Foot’s Hand over the register looked like it was wiggling its fingers  at her, and the old brass diver’s helmet had turned ever so slightly as she was watching. Shaking her head, Kytatrina shambled over to the register and hopped onto the stool behind the counter. The pills were right where she’d left them, twisting off the top and shaking two out into her hand. If they ever wanted to make a spot on the Shack they should definitely do it at night. It was definitely something that belonged to Nightmare on Elm Street. 

    Taking the pills, she was in the process of imagining Freddy coming out of one of the pictures when there was the sound of a loud hiss. Glass of water tumbling out of her hand, Kytatrina fell off the stool, landing on both feet and choking on a scream as her foot twisted from beneath her instinctively trying to relieve the weight on the injured foot. Sliding down to the floor, she could see a glow that seemed to grow along with a groan that made the floorboards shiver. 

“No, no, no…’ scooting away from it, she watched it fade away with another low groaning noise. 

    There was the sound of footsteps, Kytatrina’s hand scrambling under the counter trying to find a weapon. But the footsteps were moving away, and after a few moments she couldn’t hear them any more. Taking slow steady breaths, she counted to ten, and then twenty. And then for good measure to thirty before feeling ridiculous and slowly making her way into her good foot. Nothing seemed to have changed as she peered over the counter, eyeing each display with suspicion. 

“Huh, just creeped myself out.’

    Talking out loud helped, pulling herself upright, and pausing when she noticed a glow coming from the employees only door. Back on red alert, Kytatrina grabbed one of the eight ball canes from the barrel and crept as quietly as she could towards the door. Freddy was going to wish he’d stayed on Elm Street, Kytatrina thought to herself, trying to syke herself up before pushing open the door and half jumping down the two steps with the cane held up to swing. 

“Woah! Woah what the hell?!’ Stan scrambled out of his chair, hands held up as he stared at her surprised. 

“Stan?’

“What the hell are you doing?!’

“Wh- But I thought-’ slowly lowering the cane, Kytatrina limped to the poker table and sat down, letting it fall to the rest on her knees. 

    What had she been thinking? That an imaginary dream demon had made its way to the Mystery Shack to kill them? Shivering as she forced herself to stop thinking about that, Kytatrina began to feel like an idiot. Obviously the glow she’d seen had come from Stan coming downstairs to watch late night tv. Feeling dumb, she propped the cane against her thigh and lifted her injured foot up to look at the bandage. Red, quite a bit of red, but it hadn’t soaked all the way through. Unlike her pants that had soaked up the water from behind the counter when she’d spilled her water. 

“You okay?’ Stan was cautiously approaching her, hands held out slightly to the sides. 

“Yeah, I kind of spooked myself I think.’

“Uh huh… how’s the foot doin’?’

“Hurts.’

    Trying very hard to play it cool like she hadn’t just been threatening to whack him with a cane, Kytatrina slowly lowered her foot to the floor. When he sat down across from her and absently picked up the cards to shuffle, Kytatrina shrugged and offered  a smile. Her eyes hurt when the light came on, but she kept smiling and instead motioned towards the cards. 

“Wanna teach me how to play poker?’

“You got any cash?’

“To teach me to play?’ Sounding offended, Kytatrina let out a soft disbelieving snort. 

“I don’t think I’d be teaching you anything you don’t already know. So, yes. Pony up.’

    He had her there, and she didn’t mind being called out on it. It was hard to con a con, but it’d been worth a shot. Shrugging her shoulders, Kytatrina pointed towards her bag and was surprised he got up to grab it. Why, she wasn’t sure but she’d half expected him to at least give her some shit about it. When he set it on the table, she started digging through it and began pulling out wads of ones and fives to put on the table while he wandered off to grab his own. 

“Straight poker okay with you, or do you wanna play something fancy?’

“Straight’s fine with me.’

    The bills she was trying to straighten out fell to the table when he scooted his chair closer and reached out for her calf. Yanking it back, her heel hit the leg of the chair causing her to yelp. 

“For fuck’s sake, stop hurting yourself. Put your foot on my knee so it can be elevated.’

    Feeling foolish, Kytatrina lifted her foot and rested the side on his knee as she continued sorting through the cash. Tossing a dollar bill between them, she picked up the cards Stan dealt and smiled. 

“You do know how to play, right?’

“Kinda. Four of a kind is best unless you can get all one suit?’

    At his silence, she looked up to find Stan rubbing the bridge of his nose. Amused, Kytatrina let him take her cards and flip the deck face up. 

“There’s more to it than that.’

    For fifteen minutes he laid out the combinations and named each, Kytatrina watching with interest the dexterity of his fingers. He was an old hand at cheating by what she could see, asking questions occasionally as if she were really paying attention. Truth be told one of her “uncles” had taught her poker when she was younger, and then showed her the joys of hustling. 

“Okay, okay. Deal the cards.’ Pushing all of them into a haphazard pile, Kytatrina scooted them in his direction. 

    Cards reshuffled and dealt, she picked hers up and smiled again. It was a shit hand, nothing higher than a nine, but she sorted them anyways and nodded as if she were pleased. 

“I honestly can’t tell if you’re fuckin’ with me or if your poker face is just that shitty.’

    Instead of answering, she put a five into the pot and traded in three cards. Staring down at the cards suspiciously, Stan looked over his own cards for a moment before pulling out two and tossing them onto the table. 

“You don’t bet before you get your new cards.’

“I feel lucky though.’

    Narrowed gaze flicking towards the two cards in her hand, Stan flicked a five into the pot and sent three cards sliding across the table towards her. Scowling at them after picking them up, the two kings winked at her and Kytatrina shuffled the cards in the splayed presentation. It could have been worse, shifting in her chair, sliding down and sliding her foot across Stan’s thigh so it was her Achilles’ tendon resting on it instead. 

“Okay so now we show our cards? Or do we bet again?’

“Do you wanna bet again?’

    Reaching out she pulled another five and a one, tossing them into the pot. A pair of Kings wasn’t that impressive, but people got sloppy if you lost first. Lose heavy, win big, she remembered her uncle whispering into her ear as he over bet on a bullshit hand. It did work better when there was more people, but she figured with it being late it wasn’t as if he’d be all that focused. … probably. 

“.... I already feel bad about this. Call.’

“You call, I lead the betting.’

“That’s… …. fine.’

    Cards landing on the table, Kytatrina eyed the flush then looked back towards her own cards with her brow crinkling. Well shit, putting her own cards down to show her pair of kings, she reached a hand out towards the pot as if unsure. 

“Uh uh, that’s mine.’

    A small noise of disgust escaped her, sliding her cards towards him as she wrinkled her nose. She didn’t like losing, even if she knew it would benefit her in the long run. The sharp tsk that Stan made as he slid the cash towards him made her want to kick him. Instead she glared at the cards as though they’d personally betrayed her. 

“It wasn’t a bad hand, but it wasn’t worth the money you put into it.’ He offered, though his gaze was slightly suspicious as he shuffled again and dealt. “Never assume your pocket will see you through.’

“Pocket?’ Tossing a dollar bill between them, she watched him do the same. 

“Yeah. When your first draw has a pair they’re considered pocket Kings, or pocket fives, or whatever.’

“Oh.’

    Eyeing the Jack high flush of spades in her hand, Kytatrina blinked, glanced up at Stan and then back down at her own cards again. Fingers fiddling with the order, she glanced at the dollar she’d placed and slowly reached towards her pile of cash then stopped. Her lips twitched with amusement at the smirk curling Stan’s lips as she pulled her hand away. Instead, she looked over her cards again and then back to Stan. 

“What if I want to keep all of them?’ She asked sounding wary as the cards moved closer to her chest. 

“Well first you don’t ask like that.’ Chuckling he tossed two of his own cards down and picked up two more. “Secondly, you should always try to see if you can get  better hand.’

“But I like this one.’ 

“Uh huh? Alright, well…’ Hand patting the junk on the table, he shifted things until he found a cigar and tucked it into his mouth. “That good, huh?’

“Maybe!’

“Then bet.’

    Tossing a dollar into the pot, she shrugged when Stan laughed, cards laid down on the table to dig in her bag for cigarettes and a lighter. At Stan’s sharp look, she held her hands up to show what she’d grabbed before lighting a cigarette and holding the lighter out to him. 

“You shouldn’t do stuff like that during a hand, looks like you’re cheating.’

“You just searched half the table, how do I know you didn’t pull a fast one on me?’

“..... that’s fair.’ Lighting his cigar, he puffed on it to settle the cherry before tossing the lighter onto the table. “You also shouldn’t put your hand down unless you’re foldin’.’

“But I didn’t want you to see them yet…’

“I know, I’m just sayin’.’ Gaze moving back towards his cards, Stan eyed them a moment before putting a five into the pot.

“I only put a dollar.’ 

“I like my hand better’n you like yours.’ 

“Do I have to put a five in too?’

“No, just four unless you wanna ante.’

    Looking at her cards again, Kytatrina let a scowl curve her lips before sliding four dollars towards the pot seemingly reluctant to do so. When Stan didn’t move, she sent him a questioning look, and then her mouth shaped a small oh before placing her cards on the table face up. Looking pleased with herself, she reached out for the pot only to have the back of her hand flicked. 

“Nope, still mine.’ Showing the two’s full of queens, he scooted the pot towards himself. “Sorry, babe. Not quite good enough.’

“Shit.’

“You got the right idea anyway. Still wanna play?’

“Can’t you drink or something so this is more fair?’

“That how you normally fleece people? Start by playing dumb then get them too drunk to notice you got really good.’

“I usually bat my eyelashes, look miserable.’ Her expression followed suit, chin dipping down as she looked at her knee before looking up again with wet eyes and sniffled. “You’re not playing fair…’

“Jesus… yeah that’d sucker punch most anyone.’

    Not me, his tone said without needing to vocalize it. Undaunted she smiled and blinked away the tears, thumb catching one that escaped the edge of her left eye. He chuckled appreciatively and shuffled the deck again. 

    Eleven hands later, Kytatrina had won four time to get close to breaking even, and Stan was still suspicious. He was rewarded when she shoved the rest of the small bills she had into the pot. 

“I haven’t even dealt the cards yet!’ He protested, trying to scoot the pile back towards her with flicks of his pinky. 

“But I’m tired and I don’t like losing.’

“Okay but that’s not the best way to-‘

“I feel lucky, c’mon.’

    Grumbling, Stan counted what she had and matched it with a snort. Cards dealt as he shook his head, Kytatrina picked hers up and sighed. Three aces, that was a start, watching as Stan’s thumb spread the fan of his cards a bit wider. Tossing a card down onto the table, she kept the Queen and took a breath she let out the side of her mouth. Stan dropped four and drew cards, sending one skittering her way. 

    Another ace peeked up at her as she lifted the corner, slumping farther in her chair as she slowly added it to her hand as of it were plague ridden. 

“Hey. If you want we can try a different hand.’

“No…’ she shook her head and idly shifted her cards, teeth pinching the inner edge of her lower lip. “Last game. I called it, I can own up to it.’

“Alright.’ Huffing, Stan showed Kings full of Queens before reaching out for the pot.

“Nuh uh. That’s mine.’ 

    Flicking her hand down sharply to show the four aces, she beamed at him shooing his hand away with passes of her finger tips. Stan eyed her hand incredulously, moving his hand away slowly and pulling the cigar from his mouth to put in an ashtray. 

“I’d accuse you of cheating but you didn’t touch any of the cards other than what I gave you.’

“I told you I was feelin’ lucky.’

“That’s one hell of a feeling.’ Even as he groused over it, the ghost of a smile hovered over his lips. “I should take you to Vegas.’

“Sounds like a road trip to me.’

    Lips twitching with amusement, pleased with herself, Kytatrina straightens out the bills. Making sure they all faced the right way, she got the fives and ones in order before folding the stack in half. 

“How’s your ankle?’

“It’s not goin’ postal anymore, so… good? It still hurts but not like earlier.’ 

    Kytatrina tucked the money into the waistband of her jeans, scooting back in her seat. Stan’s hand lifted her foot, eyeing the bandage, forcing her to put both hands on the seat for balance, her other leg shifting.

“You changed the bandage.’

“Yeah there was blood on the other one when I woke up.’ She flinched when he lightly poked the bandage. “Do you actually have medical trainin’ or…’

“I had my fair share of injuries, you get a feeling for it.’ His hand lightly cupped her ankle in his hand as the other lifted to skin his fingers along the edge of the bandage. “You didn’t wrap it too tight, and it doesn’t feel hot.’

“Did you beat people up for money?’

“A couple of times, yeah.’

“Were you really gonna beat me up when I pickpocketed all those people?’

“If you weren’t such a cute little thing, I would have yeah.’ He shrugged his shoulders. “But I wasn’t gonna, just wanted to scare you into not doing it again here.’

    Nodding, Kytatrina couldn’t argue with the leniency when it was her own hide it saved. Toes wiggling as he lowered her foot before letting go, Kytatrina stretched. It had been hard playing dumb, she’d been very tempted to just trounce him. But he’d been nice, so she played nice. It was only fair. 

“You should sleep in the chair.’ 

“Hmm? Why?’

“The floor’s not that comfortable, and it’ll help keep your foot elevated if I bring one of the folding chairs over.’

“Only if you wake me up when the shop opens.’

“You know what work ethic is?’

    She was going to kick him until she noticed the teasing gleam in his eye, nose going in the air instead as her arms crossed in front of her. The laughter that followed made her grin, unable to act that prissy for long.

“I get by when I need to.’

“Amen to that.’ Stan yawned, stretching himself before scooting his chair back and standing. “You want a hand getting to the chair?’

“I do still have the foot, Stan…’

“Mouthy little-‘ his eyes rolled. “Fine, okay. Hobble on over then.’

    Watching him walk away, Kytatrina felt a bit bad but brushed it aside. She didn’t need help, it didn’t even hurt that bad, and she had the cane if it did when she walked on it. Slowly working her way up to it with even breaths, Kytatrina stood up and turned towards the chair. One step, tw- her leg went out from under her, the cane falling out of her grasp as she moved to catch herself falling flat on her face. 

    The damned thing had fallen asleep, that why her foot hadn’t been hurting. Chest and stomach aching, Kytatrina let her forehead fall to the ground with a thump. An amused snort made her carefully get onto her hands and knees to look up and see Stan grinning down at her. Hand reaching out for her, he was nice enough not to taunt her as he pulled her upright.

“Break anythin’?’

“No.’ She replied sullenly, balancing on her good foot as he wrapped an arm around her ribs. “My leg’s asleep.’

“Uh huh…’ 

    His lack of surprise irritated her, gripping Stan’s shoulder and stubbornly taking each step carefully as she tried not to lean on him. Second step on her bad foot woke her leg fully, painful prickles along the length of it and she stopped hovering between wanting to stand on it and not put her full weight on the ankle. 

“If you leaned on me, you could just hop?’

    A quick glance at his face showed he was still amused, but trying to be helpful. She was kind of grateful he didn’t just laugh at her, or worse pick her up. Reluctantly leaning against him, she felt his grip shift and tighten. 

“Little hops.’

“Shut up.’

    Each hop, she could feel him lift and hold so she didn’t jar her ankle. Feeling ridiculous knowing Stan did most of the work, Kytatrina couldn’t think of anything smart to say once they made it to the chair and she’d sat down. Instead she pretended to be somewhat interested in what was on the television Stan had left on when she’d came in the room threatening to brain him with a cane.

“Leg up.’

    Without pause, Kytatrina lifted her leg and carefully put it on the chair. It was throbbing again, teeth biting into her lower lip as Stan tossed a blanket at her, and then retrieved her backpack to put it by her in the chair. 

“.... Thanks.’

“Yeah.’ He paused, eyeing her backpack and then the pile of blankets and pillows. “You’re alright?’

    Nodding, she squirmed trying to get comfortable in the chair. Eventually she half cocooned herself to put part of the blanket between her and the chair. Another blanket landed on her as Kytatrina made the adjustments, sending Stan a smile of thanks as she finished tucking herself in. The television turned off, letting out a low hum as it went dark. Kytatrina watched his silhouette, unmoving, before turning towards the stairs. 

“Pleasant night wanderings, Stan.’ 

“What?’ He paused, head turning towards her.

“It’s something like a bed time version of good luck, hope you have nice dreams.’

“Huh. Alright, pleasant night wanderings, Kytatrina.’


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: brief dip into a past abusive situation.

    Even after her ankle healed, whenever they played poker Stan let her use his leg as a foot rest, or hook the edge of the chair with her toes. She had yet to go back into the woods, not because she was scared, but because for a full three week tourists seemed to crawl out of the woodwork and there wasn’t time for anything else. If it had gotten even half this busy when Stan had been running it on his own, she couldn’t understand how he hadn’t committed arson. 

    As it was, while he did the tours she handled the register, and after each group she darted out from behind the register to stock what she could. At night, after convincing him that she was really that good with math, she counted the money and added the sales slips together. Kytatrina could understand how he paid for the Mystery Shack and could afford the upkeep on his El Diablo. People, she mused for the hundredth time since arriving, were dumb. 

    The entire Shack seemed to take a breath as it closed for the night, sprawling across the counter dramatically Kytatrina asked Stan to just leave her there to become a display. To which he replied that he wasn’t all that great at taxidermy in such a serious tone, she’d at the least stood up and gave a huff of laughter. She didn’t really believe that he’d make her an exhibit. …. Probably. He was shifty not crazy. …. Probably. 

_     Kytatrina’s eyes opened, staring up at a familiar ceiling. For a moment she couldn’t quite understand why staring up at the plaster ceiling was wrong, rolling onto her side and hugging her pillow close to her chest. Unable to shake the sense of wrongness, she stared at the door for a long while before climbing out of bed and moving to pull it open. In the hallway she could see pictures on the wall but couldn’t make out what the photos.  _

_ “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!’ _

_     Jumping out of her skin at the voice, Kytatrina felt her stomach drop as a short woman’s shape appeared at the end of the hall. Shoulders hunching as she curled in on herself, a flutter of panic started in her belly and spread outwards.  _

_ “The dishes aren’t going to do themselves! We have company coming over and I want the house spotless!’ _

_     She didn’t want to walk down the hallway, but her feet were moving, shuffling across the carpet even as she pressed close to the wall. If she could just time it right, Kytatrina could make a quick double time and avoid the hit she knew was coming. Trying to take steady breaths and failing, she watched the woman’s silhouette shift to be right in her path. A few more steps, dart across the hall and shoot out on the left side of the hallway she’d be fine.  _

_ “Why are you dawdling?!’  _

_     The screech hurt her ears, rushing forward and jouking to the left only to be tripped by the woman’s foot. Trying to scrambleto her feet, Kytatrina’s ribs hurt as a kick brushed over them, running through the living room to the front door. Only to find the knob refused to turn, rattling it desperately, yanking on it only to drop down on her heels as a small brass Dutch shoe struck the door just shy of missing her head.  _

_ “Where do you think you’re going?!’ _

_     She hated the woman, hated her so much but she couldn’t leave. She was stuck because… because… The solid base of a brass stork caught her shoulder as she tried to think, the beak jabbing at her ear before falling away. There was a reason she stayed but she couldn’t think of it right now. All she could think of was getting the door open, to get out, leave. Behind her she could hear the woman shouting at her, cursing her, Kytatrina’s fingers going numb as her hand slammed down on the knob trying to break it out of the door.  _

“Leave me alone!’ Swinging, she felt her fist connect and felt a mixture of exaltation and gut churning fear. “Just leave me alone!’

“Easy kid, hey c’mon wake up!’

    A rough hand was shaking her shoulder, Kytatrina’s eyes flew open, head turning to look up and see Stan’s concerned face. Receipt paper rubbed against her cheek when she scrubbed her hand against it, Kytatrina grimaced and peeled it off her palm. On the table in front of her the nights paperwork was still fanned out, a few having fallen to the floor.

“Sorry, I’ll get this picked up.’ Carefully scratching the sleep from her eyes, Kytatrina scooted the chair back.

“You okay?’

“I’m fine.’

    She could feel the skeptical look Stan was leveling her, forcing herself not to jump when he dropped to his haunches and reached for the receipts that fell to the floor. Unfortunately she couldn’t herself from jerking her knee away when his hand absently moved towards it to use as a prop to stand. His hand lifted abruptly away, the table used instead his right hand covering several receipts that she’d been reaching for. 

“Nightmares are a bitch, huh?’

“Yeah.’

“You want a drink?’

    That made her pause, brow furrowed as she stared down at the papers. Finally, a little cautiously, she nodded her head. Her mind was screeching the word trap over and over but she couldn’t figure out the angle. Unless it was to talk about the dream, and she wasn’t entirely sure if she did or didn’t want to. While she was trying to think while still half asleep, Stan came back with a bottle and two coffee mugs. 

“That’s… ambitious.’ She finally managed her stomach churning at the thought of drinking a whole mug of liquor.

    Stan rolled his eyes, pouring a splash into each before lifting his own. Well that made more sense, hiding the sheepish lilt of her lips as she lifted the mug to take a drink. All that was in there she discovered, putting it down on an empty bit of table.

“Are you tryin’ to turn me into an alcoholic?’

“Really?’ He retorted snorting softly. “This is the same bottle as when you showed up, it was a third empty then and it’s still got a third left. I think your liver is safe.’

“Just checkin’.’

    Stalling was more like it, reorganizing the receipts that had scattered across the table. She could feel Stan watching her as she did so, skimming each to organize the stacks by hours of the day. As she began adding she couldn’t help shifting in her seat, writing down the sum before doing it again. 

“You can’t hit for shit.’

“We can’t all be brick houses.’ She muttered, stacking the receipts when the numbers matched, wrapping a rubber and around them. 

“Didn’t your dad teach you to hit?’

“Nope.’ Receipts tossed in front of Stan, Kytatrina stood and stretched. “I’m gonna go to bed, I didn’t realize how tired I was.’

    He was still staring at her, and she could hear the question he hadn’t asked but wanted to. Well he could choke on it, muttering a thank you for the drink, Kytatrina pushed the chair flush to the table and forced herself to walk at a normal pace out of the room and upstairs to the attic. 

    The next morning she didn’t want to get up, the nightmare had come right back again, with a vengeance. After waking the second time covered in a cold sweat she’d spent most of the rest of the night staring at the triangle window watching the shade of blue shift when clouds passed over the moon. Sitting up, she rubbed her face with both hands feeling the gritty leftovers of tears on her cheeks. 

    But there was money to make, and people to hustle, the thought momentarily cheering her as she rolled onto her feet and gave her body a long stretch ending bent almost backwards before going upright. Going down the stairs, she slowed, not hearing the television, and reaching the bottom not seeing Stan in the kitchen. Not terribly unusual, sometimes after an ungodly amount of coffee Stan would get an idea and go make it a reality. Skittering past the living room doorway, she made her way to the stove and found it cold and bare. 

“Damn…’ 

    Sighing, she grabbed the bread and pulled out two slices, one she balled up and pushed it in her mouth, before turning to the coffee pot and finding it empty as well. That made her pause, Stan might not make breakfast but there was always coffee. Suspicious now, she peeled the crust off the remaining slice and slowly ate it as she stared it down like it might explain its lack of function. 

“Do you think you could handle the first tour of the day?’

    A high pitched yip escaped her, startling before turning to see Stan standing in the entryway. Confused, her head canted slightly, the question forming on her lips but not managing to emerge. He didn’t look like death, if anything he looked too awake without coffee in his system. Slowly nodding her head, he clicked and sent her thumbs up before leaving as suddenly as he’d appeared.

“The f-’

    Shoving the rest of her bread slice into her mouth, Kytatrina darted out of the kitchen and upstairs to the attic to change. She had one white long sleeve button up, and a pair of black jeans that she yanked up over her hips before finger combing her thick mass of hair to get it as flat as she could against her head and braided it tight to the back of her head. He’d never let her lead a tour before, she felt thrilled and anxious, the bread slices in her stomach feeling heavier than they should as she skimmed the stairs on the way back down. 

    Maybe he wasn’t serious, fingers tugging a button open on her shirt then tucking it into her jeans, was he just messing with her? But Stan wasn’t there as people began queuing at the door, her hands growing clammy as she did a head count. Fingers nervously undoing the braid to leave her hair wavy to her shoulder blades, she took several deep breaths. Looking behind her Kytatrina flicked her gaze over a few exhibits and tried to remember the stories Stan spun about them and came up blank. Shit!

“You got this.’ She told herself as she grabbed the eight ball cane by the door and slowly opened it. 

    Walking out, Kytatrina leaned on it, tucking her foot behind her ankle as she smiled brightly down at the people murmuring amongst themselves. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting folks! Had to wrangle the Hand of Glory back into its case. It just keeps slipping out for mischief now and again.’

    She could feel the adults looking her over, some of them rather skeptically as she continued attempting to blind them with her smile. Several at least chuckled, a couple of oohs. Maybe she wasn’t going to make a complete disaster of this after all. Turning, she unhooked her ankle and slid her foot out as she bowed low, and hand sweeping towards the open door. And the box that had been screwed to the wall next to it where the tourists were meant to pay their entrance fee.

“Please, come in.’ As the tourists began walking towards her, Kytatrina lowered her voice. “But carefully, I’m not a hundred percent sure nothing else has slipped out of its case.’

    After making sure each had paid in full, she followed them inside. Her toes flicked the door to slowly shut, slipping through them as they allowed their eyes to adjust to the much dimmer interior, her fingers itching. But that would be bad business, spinning dramatically on her heel, she tossed the cane into the air as her arms flung out, catching it with a grin. 

“Welcome to the Mystery Shack!’

    She could see by their expressions they weren’t entirely sold, but she was going to do this right, cane tapping hard against the floor as she slammed it down to make sure all eyes were on her. 

“Now I do need to caution you, some of the exhibits are cursed, and must only be handled by those recently blessed by a priest for protection.’ When a few people chuckled, she looked at them directly in the eye, her own widened as if scared. “You laugh, but one of our last tourists didn’t listen and is down at the local Parrish while they try to figure out what kind of nasty thing is clinging to his soul…’

    Those who had laughed weren’t now, Kytatrina leaning towards the crowd who were shifting nervously. Success!

“Now!’ Another tap of the cane, turning she began slowly walking towards the exhibits waiting to be viewed. “Let’s begin your journey into the only space where science fiction and reality meet. Where the unknown are shown only to the clever who sought out those brave enough to find it. Stay on the hard wood floor, it’s the only way we can guarantee you stay out of any cursed object’s proximity.’

    Cursing inwardly, Kytatrina tried not to wince at how thick she’d laid it on, walking towards the first case that held a large rat with a scorpion’s tail and snake fangs where its incisors should have been. 

“Here we have the last of the rats that brought the plague across Europe.’ The cane whished through the air, stopping a few tourists who had made a move to step off the hard wood pathway. “Careful, it was found in that same glass case deep within a castle. It hasn’t been opened, and I’d rather the display not fall and release the air trapped inside.’

    She heard a few mutters in the crowd, moving aside so they could all see it, holding up a hand as a tourist lifted their camera. 

“I’m very sorry, but taking pictures is extra.’

“What? After what I paid to get in?!’

“You paid to see, but if you’d like to take home proof of the mysteries you find inside that’s another kettle of fish.’ She lifted a shoulder in a shrug, smiling somewhat sheepishly. “There are several fascinating exhibits, camera use is an extra $20.’

    Foot shifting, her heel found the raised section of rug and depressed it gently. Inside the display the rat’s sides lifted, held, and when she shifted her heel off the button they fell. Still arguing with the tourists calmly she did this intermittently until one of the tourists gasped.

“It moved!’

“No it didn’t!’

“It di- Look! I swear it’s breathing, was it breathing before?!’

“Okay, okay, maybe we should move on to the next exhibit. I think the attention is causing the curse the creature carries to wake.’ Her laughter sounded forced as she stared at the exhibit hard, waving her hand in an attempt to get them to move. “Back in the day superstition claimed witches were the cause of the plague, and I’d rather not see for myself if it wasn’t just paranoid people.’

    The chuckles that got her were nervous, the tourist with the camera reaching into her bra to pull out some cash and pushed it into Kytatrina’s hand as she snapped a picture before rejoining the group.

“I’m sure it was nothing, just a trick of the light.’ She assured them, even as she quickened her own step away from the glass enclosure. “The next exhibit is quite harmless as long as no one cuddles up with it.’

    Standing on a small velvet platform was a large, long haired cat. Just visible in the fur were spines, black and shiny that “grew” out the animal’s back.

“Last year the proprietor had the unfortunate experience of waking up with this creature sliding into his sleeping bag while he was camping.’ She eyed it sympathetically, her hands stacked on the eight ball head of the cane. “He didn’t mean to harm it, but in the awkward shift from sleep, to panic, to awake, the poor creature was injured. He told me he was planning on going out again sometime soon to try and catch a live specimen.’

“Oh yeah? Where?’ 

    A good question, Kytatrina’s head turning to a swarthy toned man in the back, head canting to the side.

“He didn’t give me specifics, but he mentioned the hill a few miles outside the city where you can look down on the city lights.’ 

“Okay sure, but what direction?’

“Are you hoping to catch one for yourself? I could ask him if you’d like. If you’d leave your contact information I’ll be sure to send you all the details I can wrangle out of him.’

    The man’s eyes narrowed before nodding slowly, his gaze shifting to the cat again. Jesus… she didn’t remember Stan ever having to give exact details on where things were found. But he was also about a foot taller, and definitely twice as broad as she was. Smiling sweetly at the crowd, she skimmed the edge of the small crowd to move them to another exhibit, and another. 

    She was NEVER going to give Stan hell about how tired he looked after giving tours again. Almost finished she felt like she needed a shower and three bottles of ice cold water. There was the nice wad of cash in her pocket, however, as more of the crowd needed to take pictures. Moving to the area just near the red velvet curtains, she watched each person as they milled around the exhibits, glancing at the clock tucked nearby to make sure there would be time to make sure the area was clean for the next troupe. 

“How do you know so much?’ Looking down, she met a pair of wide green eyes. A raggedy stuffed animal of impossible to tell genus hung by the little girl’s side. 

“The proprietor is a good friend of the family, I’ve been listening to him tell stories about his exhibits for years.’

“Wow…’

“Yeah, wow. You should see the things we have tucked away that are too scary to leave out.’ When the little girl’s eyes widened, lifting the stuffed toy to clutch close to her chest, Kytatrina squatted down to ruffle her hair. “Don’t worry. Mr. Mystery has very strong locks to keep them caged up, I promise.’

    Standing up after the child nodded slowly, Kytatrina took her hand and led the little girl lead her back towards her mother. A hand at her elbow made her look away from the Hand of Glory, and up, then up some more into an acne scarred face that was squinting down at her. What the hell had this guy’s parents fed him?!

“This place is bullshit.’

“If you say so, sir. But I was here when he brought the porqupuss in, and saw this very hand glow when he held it.’ Her tone was bland, seeing a few gazes flick their way trying to hide the fact they were listening. “You can believe what you want, but I learned at a young age that some of the incredible things in the world are real.’

“You  _ think _ they’re real.’ He persisted.

“I’m sorry,’ she paused, when he began to smirk. “That you lost your sense of wonder before you could discover the same yourself.’

    Head tilted back, she stared up at him, putting on an almost mournful expression as his mouth opened and closed. Slowly reaching out, she lightly clasped his arm, gave it a soft pat, and then turned to the rest of the group.

“I am also sorry that we’re run out of time, please take the pictures you’ve paid for if you need to, but the tour is now over.’

    It was gratifying to hear a few groans, and even a question or two that she did her best to bullshit through an answer as she made a circuit around the room to began herding everyone towards the exit. After making sure everyone was out, she dipped through the curtains just as Stan opened the employee’s only door. He gave her a quick wink before flipping down his eye patch and entering the gift shop.

“I hope the kid was able to answer your questions.’ He said loudly as he strode into the room.

    Taking advantage of the focus shifting towards him, Kytatrina leaned against the door jamb and let out a breath. Never,  _ ever _ , was she going to poke fun at him. With a half ear she heard people talking in the shop, weaving through bodies to make her way to the register. Posture straight, she watched him shake a few hands, subtly guide people towards displays. 

“Excuse me?’

    Gaze shifting, she was surprised to see the too tall man standing in front of the counter holding a few books in his hand. His cheeks were red, and he wasn’t quite meeting her eyes as he put them on the counter. Ringing him up, she forced herself not to smile to broadly, giving him his change and sliding the books into a bag.

“Thank you for visiting the Mystery Shack.’ She chirruped.

    He paused in the middle of taking the bag, before yanking it close and walking out the door. Watching him leave, Kytatrina snorted softly. 

“You did good, kitten.’ A low voice whispered near her ear.

    Jumping, her head turned sharply to see Stan standing next to her, smiling.

“Thanks.’

“Sense of wonder, huh?’

    Helplessly rolling her shoulders in a shrug, she smiled.

“He started it.’

“And how old were you when I was telling you stories of my adventures?’

    Her mouth opened but she couldn’t think of a good response, mouth snapping shut when he laughed, patting her shoulder before walking back around the counter towards a couple that was sorting through a display. Hands moving to brace her weight on the counter as she smirked at his back. It’d been an inspired moment, she couldn’t be held responsible for the muse taking the reins. Catching sight of the little girl making her way towards the counter, Kytatrina smiled.

“Oh hey, what’d you find?’ A stuffed owl with cat’s ears and eyes appeared over the counter, a pair of bright green eyes peering over the edge behind it.

“Ooh, you wanna know a secret?’ Watching the head bob, Kytatrina half laid across the counter to whisper loudly. “The cowl is my favourite too!’

    Ringing everyone up as Stan finished cajoling them, Kytatrina waved goodbye to the little girl and half collapsed on the stool when the door finally closed. 

“Ready for the next tour?’

    He held out a bottle of Pitt Cola, her eyes flying open to meet his. What? His laughter at her horrified expression made her glare at him as she snatched the drink from his hand.

“I’m always ready, for everything, all the time.’ She proclaimed after taking a drink trying to pretend that she hadn’t just looked anything less than enthusiastic. 

“I’ll keep that in mind the next time I need a break.’

    Nodding, she took another drink. Yeah, she could do it again. It wasn’t that hard really, you just had to not completely fuck it up. …. ugh, okay maybe next time she’d think of her stories first and then guide a tour through. She choked when a hand clapped her on the back, Stan’s chuckle in her ears as he dipped from behind the counter, and through the curtains towards the exhibits. Ass.


	7. Chapter 7

    A brief lull fell over the Shack, from tourists at least, Kytatrina standing in the doorway as she watched the rain come down so hard it was hard to see past the porch. The storm had hit some time the night before last and didn’t show any signs of stopping. She could, somewhat feasibly, still make it into town, she thought pulling her hands into the arms of her sweater. Probably, a lightning flash followed by a growl of thunder she could feel through the soles of her feet.   
  
“Don’t think that’ll be letting up any time soon.’   
  
   Taking the mug from him, she curled her hands around it with a nod. It couldn’t rain forever though, eyes closing as she breathed in the steam that rose from the hot chocolate Stan had made. She didn’t miss coffee when she didn’t really need to be up yet. Or at all considering the fact there couldn’t be that many people stupid enough to drive into a valley during a downpour, and then through woods on slick dirt roads.   
  
   Thankfully those idiots weren’t here, Kytatrina mused moving a hand to her shorts’ pocket under her sweater and patted it. Frowning, she shifted the mug into her other hand and patted the other side. Damn, she could only find her lighter, her cigarettes had to be somewhere else. Sighing, she took a tentative sip of her cocoa, and immediately glanced down when something bumped her lip. A large marshmallow was attempting to float even as it slowly melted into white fluff.   
  
“Did you go to the store?’ She asked over her shoulder as she immediately began poking it, carefully making it swim around the mug.   
  
“In this rain? No.’   
  
“.... Do you have a secret stash of marshmallows?’ He didn’t answer, and Kytatrina turned away from watching the rain with an eyebrow arched. Wonders truly never ceased. “Dude.’   
  
“It’s not a secret, I just haven’t told you where they are.’   
  
   That… was absolutely the definition of a secret stash, finally taking a drink of her hot chocolate as she continued to stare at him. She could see the hint of a blush on his cheeks as he in turn stared at the television. Between the two of them, she knew who would crack first, being stared at was horribly uncomfortable. Another drink, this one sipped loudly as she stared at him over the rim of the mug. She held perfectly still when his head finally snapped towards her.   
  
“It’s NOT a secret stash, alright? I just happened to remember that I had some and thought I’d be nice.’ His voice was a snarl, Kytatrina blinking once as she obnoxiously sipped again.   
  
“The not secret stash marshmallow from your secret stash is very good.’ She fought back laughter when his eyes narrowed, a soft noise escaping her before she could continue. “Are there any other goodies in your not secret stash that you haven’t told me about?’   
  
“.... No.’   
  
   She didn’t believe that for a second, a fingertip tapping contemplatively against ceramic. Attempting a nonchalant expression, she slowly turned towards the stairs and began climbing them quietly. At least she’d found something interesting to do while it was storming. There were only so many times someone could dust exhibits after all. She was halfway down the hall towards Stan’s room, where else would he stash something where she wouldn’t find it, when Kytatrina  could practically feel him realize she absolutely would begin hunting his stash. The sound of his feet on the stairs made her grin, finishing her hot chocolate, and dashing towards his bedroom door to shoulder it open.   
  
   Coming to an abrupt halt, Kytatrina stared at the chaos in front of her bemused. How the hell did he even get dressed in the morning? Closing it, she turned the lock and leaned against the door. If she were a grown man hiding sweets from a growing person where would she stash them? The door shuddered beneath Stan’s fist as he pounded it.   
  
“Get the hell out of my room!’   
  
“In a minute!’   
  
   Door knob rattling behind her, her eyes flicked between her choices. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind he could, and most likely would, shoulder the door open if she didn’t do as he’d demanded in a minute or less. The entire room was dimly lit by the stove in the corner, Kytatrina palming the wall looking for the light switch. Giving up, she stepped over clothes on the floor towards the bed and kneeled down next to it. Pulling out a shoebox, she opened it and found crumpled flyers, a couple of old photographs, and what looked like ticket stubs.   
  
   Gingerly reaching farther, under the bed she felt plastic and tugged. Her reward was a shopping bag with snacks almost spilling out of it. Shooting up to her feet, she kicked the shoebox back under the bed and made her way back towards the door only to have it fly open before she got close enough to unlock it. Surprisingly he managed to look mildly terror inducing even in a wife beater, boxers, and a ratty looking robe hanging from his shoulders.   
  
“Real cute, get out.’ Frozen, she stared at him, hands having already gone behind her back to try and hide the bag. “Go on.’   
  
   Heart in her throat, Kytatrina slunk forward, turning to edge past him, and let out a yelp when he grabbed the bag from behind her.   
  
“Hey!’   
  
“These are mine. If you want snacks you can buy your own, you have money.’   
  
“But…’ unable to think of a good excuse, her hands flailed slightly. “Just one bag? I did find them.’   
  
“No. Now get out of here.’   
  
“Yeah but-’   
  
   Her argument was derailed by Stan’s hand flicking out and catching her hip. The swat stung, even through her sweater and the shorts she wore beneath it, but it was more that he’d done it at all. Indignant, but not willing to stick around to see if he’d do worse than that Kytatrina finally finished slipping past him and made her way downstairs to find something else to eat.   
  
   Belly dissatisfied with the eggs she’d scrambled, Kytatrina found herself upstairs digging through the pile of blankets and clothes she called a bed looking for her smokes. And then her back pack for the second time, the two boxes under the window she’d carried up after deciding to stay for a bit longer. They were nowhere, idly flicking her lighter with her thumb. The rain was suddenly much more annoying than it had been, still pouring down hard enough she didn’t want to risk driving into town.   
  
“Hey, Stan!’ Pounding down the stairs, she hung onto the door jamb and used her momentum to execute a sharp immediate turn, smiling down at him in his chair. “Do you know where my smokes are?’   
  
“No, must be a sign you should quit.’ Replied the hypocrite enjoying a cigar as he watched television.   
  
   Smile slipping, she gave him a dark look before sighing and taking her time walking in front of the television to begin searching the table. No luck, glancing at the gift shop and immediately shooting the idea down. She never brought them in there to avoid the temptation of stepping outside real quick of a puff or two. Muttering curses, she squatted down next to the dinosaur skull and felt around the bottom, then laid down and slowly slid her arm under the chair. She didn’t find anything other than a couple empty cans, sitting up and taking in a deep breath.   
  
   It wasn’t even about the nicotinenow,  it was the principle of the thing. She’d had at least half a pack left, leaning against the skull as she tried to remember where she’d left them.   
  
“Definitely a sign.’ Stan sighed, smoke trickling out of his mouth as he grinned.   
  
“.... can I just have a drag off your cigar?’   
  
“No.’   
  
   Sullenly, she sat cross legged in front of the dinosaur skull, staring without really watching the show that Stan had playing. No snacks, no smokes, and nothing to do but watch terrible day time programming. She would read, but she’d left her boxes of books in the car because they were heavy. Which was outside in the rain, and she didn’t feel like drowning just for a few hours of entertainment.   
  
   Two programs later, sprawled out on the floor on her stomach, she decided a little drowning never hurt anyone, pushing herself to her feet. Walking out onto the porch, she hesitated, toes curling and uncurling before leaping off the porch and sprinting to her car. The door stuck, Kytatrina staring down at the handle incredulously before yanking again. She could turn around and go inside but she was already soaked, gritting her teeth and yanked one more time, almost falling on her backside when the door flew open. Soaked, Kytatrina shivered before turning and leaning between the front seats to reach the boxes in the back.   
  
   Now the question was, what genre did she want to read? Running her hands along the back of her seats to dry them, she began pulling a few out at a time. Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Dystopia, Romance, she let out an annoyed breath and then sniffled. All of her books were good books, that was the problem, resting against her seat as she sorted. Finally, after twenty minutes of agonizing indecision, she grabbed a trilogy and tossed them into the passenger seat. Each book was well over seven hundred pages, it should last her a little while.   
  
   Turning to sit in the driver’s seat, she leaned over to grab a bag from the floorboard and shook out the empty bottle and candy wrappers from a past trip. Sliding the books inside, she tied the bag closed, twisted it, wrapped the handles around it and took a breath. The rain was cold on her skin, running full speed back to the porch and using the first step to leap onto it. A flash caught her eye for a second before she’d shouldered open the door and closed it behind her.   
  
“What the hell could have been so important you had to go out in that?’   
  
“Books.’ She replied hanging the bag on the door handle, then wiping her face with her hands.   
  
“Books…’ Stan’s snort let her know that he didn’t feel the same way. “Well you can read them right there, you’re not leaving puddles all over the place.’   
  
“.... but I’m cold.’   
  
“And I will be too if I step in a puddle you don’t clean up.’ Kytatrina stared at him as he leaned forward in the chair to look her over. “You brought half the storm inside with you.’   
  
“And I’m cold .’ She reiterated, tugging at the sleeve of her sweater that came away from her skin with a sucking sound.   
  
“Shoulda thought of that before you went running out in the rain.’   
  
   His amused tone did not help, Kytatrina resisting the urge to stomp just barely, there was already a puddle under her. And she could feel the goosebumps all over, but especially on her bare legs where the the wind that made it past the door teased her skin. She’d known it was a bad idea when she’d come up with it, but after running non stop for weeks, suddenly having nothing to do had theartened to drive her crazy.   
  
   Fingers moving to tug at the hem of her sweater, Kytatrina sniffled as a raindrop ran down her nose, wiping it away. She knew she looked pathetic, and she felt miserable as the chill burrowed deeper. So she felt a little better when Stan’s smile faded and he coughed into his hand before standing up.   
  
“Alright, alright. Just a second.   
  
   She was surprised to see that he already had a towel, tugging at her sweater, she watched him toss the towel onto her head. A breeze tickling her skin made her shiver, reaching up to pat the towel against her hair. It wouldn’t dry anyways, not without becoming an absolute m- Rough hands brushed hers out of the way, tousling her hair under the towel.   
  
“The books still worth it?’ He asked ignoring her hands shoving at him.   
  
“Yes!’ Finally giving up on moving him, she grabbed the towel and yanked at it, pulling it off her head.   
  
   Stan stared at her for a moment and then burst out laughing, Kytatrina reaching up to start trying to finger comb her hair into some order.   
  
“I didn’t know it got so curly, you usually have it back in a ponytail.’   
  
   Glaring at him, she reached to the back of her head and pulled loose the pony tail holder that had been partially worked free. After putting it around her wrist she made the mistake of crossing her arms, pressing the sodden fabric closer to her skin and gasped.   
  
“Do you have anything on under that?’   
  
“Yes?’ Fingers grabbing fabric she pulled it up to show shorts, and tried not to laugh when he seemed to look relieved.   
  
“Take it off.’ He ordered motioning towards the coat rack. “You can borrow my robe until you find something else.’   
  
   Not moving, Kytatrina eyed his robe, her fingers tugging at the hem of her sweater.   
  
“C’mon, your lips look a little blue.’   
  
   She was cold, but she hadn’t really thought about the fact there was nothing else under the sweater. Stan seemed to misunderstand her hesitation, reaching for the hem and yanking it up, pulling it over her head before flushing.   
  
“You said you were-’   
  
“I have the shorts and they’re not all that wet…’   
  
   Lips pressing into a thin line, he tossed the sweater towards the coat rack and gave her a brusque scrub with the towel down her arms. Tossing the towel after the sweater, he shrugged out of the robe and handed it to her before turning around.   
  
“Maybe I should have been more clear.’   
  
   Staring at his back, Kytatrina slid her arms into the robe, and when she went to wrap it around her it went all the way to the sides of her ribs. The heat trapped in the fabric felt amazing against her skin, cuddling into it as she side stepped around him to pick up the sweater and towel, hanging them.   
  
“Thanks.’   
  
“Mmhmm.’   
  
   She could see a flush that reddened the curve of his ears, and as she circled around she could see that his cheeks were red too. Amused, she reached out and poked his arm with two fingers, chuckling when he started, rubbing at the spot.   
  
“I said thank you.’   
  
“Your fingers feel like ice cubes.’ He accused, walking back to his chair and falling into it with a grunt.   
  
“All of me is an ice cube, you made me stand at the door like a dog.’ She shot back, nose lifting as she followed him.   
  
“I didn’t make you go outside for some books.’ Was the counter argument, Stan lighting his cigar and settling more comfortably in his chair.   
  
“You did with… whatever the hell it is you’re watching.’   
  
“The storage room needs organizing again, you could have done that.’   
  
   Mouth opening, Kytatrina tried to think of something to throw back and came up with nothing. That was even more irritating, watching him smugly suck on his cigar while she fumed. Bridge of her nose crinkling slightly as she fought the urge to sneer at him, she reached out and plucked the cigar from his fingers when he rested his hand on the arm of the chair. His reaction was immediate, hand turning and snapping closed around her wrist.   
  
   It didn’t hurt, and she quickly pulled it away with her other hand to her mouth. The smoke was heavier than a cigarette’s, letting it settle on her tongue before breathing it in. Instantly a mistake, Kytatrina tried to exhale without coughing and failed. Bracing her weight on the arm of the chair, she could distantly hear Stan laughing.   
  
“It’s for taste, not inhaling.’ He informed her taking the cigar back and setting it down in an ashtray.   
  
“Tastes great.’ She rasped, between coughs, sarcasm lost in the struggle to relearn how to breathe.   
  
   The fingers on her wrist tugged, and she half toppled onto his lap, managing to not cough up her lungs as she sat on his knee. If she’d known that it was going to be like that she would have done a smoker’s equivalent of a sip, instead she’d pulled hard and… Gulping in air, she patted her sternum, rubbing her throat. She could feel Stan’s hand rubbing circles against her back, lifting her hand to grind the tears from her eyes with the heel of her palm.   
  
“How do you smoke those things?’ A couple more weak coughs escaped her, breathing in through her nose and holding it before letting it out. “Fuckin’ evil…’   
  
   The hand smoothing along her back was warm even through the robe, and Kytatrina pressed back into it.   
  
“You still cold?’   
  
“Kind of.’ She gave a weak cough, looking at him out of the corner of her eye. “And you tried to kill me.’   
  
“No one told you to snatch my cigar.’ He reminded her after snorting.   
  
“I have low impulse control.’   
  
   His hand moved to rub along her back in wider strokes, Kytatrina tipping sideways. He was very warm, and her chest hurt, and-   
  
“Obviously.’ The hand on her back moved to chafe her arm, Kytatrina shivering at the contrast of the heat of his hand versus her own slowly returning warmth. “Don’t you have books you gotta read?’   
  
“Mhmm.’ Lifting her arm, she felt his hand run down her side, heat seeping through the fabric and sighed.   
  
   His hand paused briefly, before chafing her side a bit and giving her ribs a shove. Reluctantly sitting up, Kytatrina stretched. A jerk on the robe made her eyes open, looking down she could see where Stan had given it a sharp tug to stop the fabric from gaping open at the top.   
  
“Don’t you have books you were dyin’ to read?’   
  
“Mhmm.’ Rolling to her feet, Kytatrina held the robe tight with one hand near her chest. “Thanks for the warm up.’   
  
   Eyes widening, Stan shook his head and waved a hand at her to get her out from in front of the television. Rolling her own, she paused by the door to grab the books that were still in the bag and eyed the puddle by the door.   
  
“Leave it! Just go read.’   
  
   More than happy to get to her nest of blankets, Kytatrina half ran up the stairs.   
  
“And get dressed!’


	8. Chapter 8

   Kytatrina woke the next day with her hand cramping from falling asleep still holding onto the book she’d been reading. Letting it fall the few inches to the floor, she rubbed the tendons with her other hand as she kicked at fabric until she could feel air against her sweat damp skin. The room was still only dimly lit, her head tilting back to see that there were still a few stars scattered across the inky dark sky.   
  
    As her head lowered, she could see Stan’s robe hanging off the corner of a cardboard box. She was going to have to return that… It was early enough that Stan wouldn’t have had coffee, or even be awake which suited her just fine. If she could manage to not wake him up getting coffee ready, and making a quick sandwich, she could be done before he even came downstairs. Once he did come down he wouldn’t want to talk until after coffee, or maybe at all. Kytatrina could definitely live with that.   
  
   Pulling an over large cable knit on, she finger deranged her hair to tie it back tightly before tugging on jeans as she half walked, half hopped putting a foot in each pant leg, to the door. Finger hooking the robe, she carefully opened the door and tiptoed down the stairs.   
  
    He wasn’t in the living room as she scooted past, tossing the robe onto his chair. Or the kitchen when she darted in and directly to the coffee pot. The water slowly dripped before becoming a thin murky stream, Kytatrina impatiently yanking the pot out and shoving her mug beneath the percolating liquid instead.    
  
   Taking advantage of the slow fill, she glanced around the counter top and found a piece of paper that didn’t seem to have much on it other than faded print. The search for a pen took longer, juggling the search, pulling the mug out, putting the pot back under, but she finally found one under a plate with a partial stick of butter melting on it.   
  
_ Sorry for going through your stuff! Made coffee, see you later!! _   
  
   Pen scratching her name, she eyed the note for a moment and then propped it in front of the coffee pot. And then ever so slightly off kilter, that was better. Powdered creamer poured into her much, she stirred it with the other end of the pen then wiped it on the hem of her sweater. It really was too early to eat, squinting at the clock that warned her it was only three am. Or would that be too late? Did it count as sleep if you only passed out because you made yourself tired straining your eyes to read in the dark? That was technically a nap… right?   
  
    Sipping the scalding liquid Kytatina heard a creak, innocuous at best, but she couldn’t help freezing her rambling thoughts derailing. It was not a good time to go outside, she still didn’t really trust the woods, but if that was the sound of Stan getting up. Licking the bitter taste from her lips, she did have to admit that making coffee had probably been a bad idea, the smell of it could rouse the dead.   
  
    As casually as possible, she walked out of the kitchen and around the stairs to the hall instead of up. If she went up, and Stan was rousing, then she’d have to say something and she wanted to put that off for as long as possible. Instead she decided to go to the storage room and sort through stuff. If she was remembering correctly, there had been a clipboard and paper, she could make an inventory for all the discarded junk. That could take, what, hours? Days even?   
  
    Carefully opening the door, her hand slowly moved through the dark until she found the beaded chain and tugged. Blinking, she eyed the boxes shoved to the walls, walking through the corridor of carboard to the empty back end of the storage room. There was a box there, and what looked like a duffle bag. No, it was a bag but it was like the ones she’d seen in gyms hanging from a gallows kind of set up.   
  
    Tentatively giving it a kick, she watched it rock a bit before settling again. Intrigued but still curious about the one box that hadn’t been shoved to the other end of the room, Kytatrina squatted down next to it and gingerly flipped back the top flaps. Did we not just get in trouble for going through Stan’s stuff? The thought skimmed by, barely acknowledged as she reached in to pull out a glove that at one time had been a pretty colour. Now it was all scuffed, the material cracked and spiderwebbing. Dropping it to the side, she pulled on the end of a piece of fabric that was yellow ish and, she noticed with a twist in her stomach, stiff in places.   
  
    Under that were pictures, and newspaper clippings, Kytatrina taking a large swallow of her coffee before setting the mug down and scooting it away to sit crosslegged. None of them were of Stan, and some of the people in the picture looked rough. The clippings were more interesting, though she had to stare at them for a long while before figuring out the lists of numbers in the columns, and connect them to the men in the pictures.   
  
    Gaze moving back to the punching bag on the floor, she twisted and rolled onto her knees, walking over to it on her knee caps before straddling it and curling her hands into fists. Pop! Pop! The punches were shit, but it was still fun, Kytatrina smiling as she shifted to punch downwards again twice with her right and then with her left as a surprise.   
  
“Southpaw! Rocky style!”   
  
    She didn’t even know if that was a thing, she was probably hoarsely shouting the entirely wrong thing, but the only things around to judge her were shadows and her own thoughts. Rolling onto her feet, she stood with her feet parted, before turning and throwing her fist out. Wait, she was supposed to move her feet, that was definitely a thing she remembered. Which turned out to be a mistake as her foot knocked over her coffee cup, spilling the remains onto the floor.   
  
“No, no, no.” Moving to put her foot between the spill that was creeping to the boxes on the right side of the room, Kytatrina shuddered feeling it puddle under the arch of her foot.   
  
    Hand blindly opening a box as she twisted on her ankle to get closer, her fingers dug deeply only to find things that would be less than useful. Glass, possibly plastic, and something that felt like hair which she didn’t want to think too much about. Straining, she just managed to slip her fingers into a different box and felt fabric, tugging it pinched between her fingers until it reluctantly slithered out. It was a dark burgundy, heavy enough that as she finished tugging the box tipped spilling its contents onto the floor as the rest of the fabric fell.   
  
    It didn’t look too important, and the dark fabric would probably hide the coffee stain decently well if she only used the corner. Carefully maneuvering the rug, carpet, thing, Kytatrina mopped up what was left of her coffee off the wooden floor boards. That done, she began to immediately feel anxious, like she was at the scene of a crime. Picking up her coffee mug, she gave the chain a sharp pull and made a stealthy dash towards the door, peering out into the hallway. Nothing. Good.   
  
    As she was darting up towards the attic, she paused when her hand was jerked backwards, brow furrowing to look behind her. Lips pressing together, Kytatrina tightened her grip on the fabric still in her hand. She didn’t remember taking the stupid thing with her, as a matter of fact she was almost certain that she’d tossed it over the tipped cardboard box. Since she had it though, it wouldn’t hurt to give it a quick rinse right, her fingers pressing against the ridges she could feel stitched into the fabric.   
  
    In the light of the bathroom, she gave it a sharp flick to spread it out, the wet corner slapping against the porcelain rim of the tub. Dropping the end, she walked around it towards the corner even as she looked at the design. It seemed a little silly, a bright yellow triangle with an eye, just one at that, and stick figure arms and legs. After staring down at it for a while she did have to admit it fit right in with the conspiracy items that Stan had up, and the fez thing… So why was it down in storage, had it been taking up too much space?   
  
    Whatever. It didn’t matter, Kytatrina gently turning the knob for water even as she tried to hush the pipes that groaned in protest. She didn’t need Stan waking up and finding her with this thing, letting the water run over the fabric and squeezing it to rinse it, repeat. When the coffee smell was far less noticeable she turned off the water and gingerly rung it out. It was very soft, and Stan wouldn’t miss it, she mused rubbing her fingers over the material. Besides it needed to dry in the one place she knew he wouldn’t go, so why not take it with her and add it to the nest she’d made for herself?   
  
    A creak outside the bathroom door made her freeze, staring at the door like an animal caught in headlights before very slowly rolling the huge rectangle of fabric in her hands. Still unmoving, she haphazardly folded it to make it easier to carry, straining to hear anything else. But when nothing else happened, she shrugged her shoulders and assumed that it was just the old cabin settling. Happened all the time.   
  
    Opening the door, she slowly stuck her head out just to double check before dashing up to the attic, unfurling the fabric and letting it lay along a stack of boxes at the other side of the room. The picture looked familiar but she couldn’t place it, falling back onto her nest as she stared at it. Probably from a book she’d read. Speaking of, her body twisting to find the book she’d dropped earlier, she fumbled in the dark for both it and to turn on the battery run lamp she kept in the attic. She could figure out the weird picture later.   
  
    Stan was already in the gift shop when Kytatrina came in the long way round, avoiding the kitchen window by ducking beneath it. Which made it impossible for her sneaking in the gift shop door to look like anything else other than trying to avoid him. But she smiled brightly, gave a cheery “Good mornin’!” then immediately turned to make sure everything was faced and properly labeled on the shelf to her right. She could feel him staring at her, but refused to respond to it, fingers carefully shifting things little by little.   
  
“Thanks for the coffee.’   
  
“No problem.’   
  
    The silence after that felt heavy, and he was still staring at her as if he was trying to will her to turn around and talk with him. Not a chance, she still felt dumb for getting jittery like that and then the other thing. Coughing, dropped down on her haunches behind a display “to work on a lower shelf” and didn’t take a full breath until she heard him leave the gift shop to meet the first batch of tourists.   
  
    Halfway through the day, she was half dying of boredom. People were taking too long to pick something out even if Kytatrina wandered up to “help” them pick something. Whenever someone wandered close to the register she perked up but people just really wanted to peruse.   
  
   Mingling with the tourists, she almost didn’t notice when a tourist near her age began tailing her, staying just far back that she didn’t feel crowded as she stocked the shelves. But he was hard to ignore with the amount of cologne or whatever it was that he’d bathed in wafting around him.   
  
“Hey.’   
  
   Pausing in the middle of placing snow globes on the shelf, Kytatrina looked over her shoulder at the boy smirking at her.   
  
“You need help findin’ something?’   
  
“No.’   
  
   A long silence, Kytatrina staring at him as he continued to smirk. When he still hadn’t said anything she turned back towards the shelf. When she moved on to put shirts on hangers, she watched an arm reach over her shoulder, felt heat against her back and resisted the urge to sling her elbow backwards. Barely.   
  
“Everything in this store is grody… I don’t know why people even bother buying anything.’   
  
   When the shirt and hanger clattered to the floor behind her, Kytatrina turned quickly surprising him and forcing him to step back as she bent down to pick it up. Standing, she gave him a once over. He looked... stretched, and the over large bomber jacket he wore didn’t help that. Reluctantly, she did have to admit the Guns n Roses tee was pretty cool.   
  
“You got a break coming up soon?’   
  
“Sorry, you just missed my last break I won’t have another for a couple hours.’ Turning, she hung the shirt back on the long rack then sidled around him.   
  
“We’ll probably still be around then, my Mom is nuts for places like this.’ He made a face that said he definitely wasn’t. “Might even go into town for lunch if you want to come?’   
  
“I had a big breakfast.’   
  
   The skeptical look he sent her made her smile, even more so when her stomach betrayed her with a loud grumble. Shrugging one shoulder she went back to stocking around customers, finally making her way back behind the counter only to have him follow and lean against it.   
  
“So is the old man a slave master or what?’   
  
“He can be, but it’s his business.’   
  
“Maybe you could sneak out for a smoke with me real quick?’ His chin jerked towards the other three people in the store. “They all look preoccupied.’   
  
“Sorry, can’t.’   
  
   He scowled at her, hands sliding into the pocket of his jacket and Kytatrina fought back the urge to sigh. Forcing a smile, she sent him a shrug. He took this as an invitation to keep talking, Kytatrina blocking him out and giving a few non committal hums when she thought they’d fit. She started when he reached out to brush his fingers along the back of her hand resting on the counter, staring at him confused. For fuck’s sake…   
  
“I was just thinking maybe if we’re still here during your next break me and you could-’   
  
“Then stop thinkin’.’ She said forcing a somewhat professional smile.   
  
    He seemed to think she was joking and laughed, moving around the counter in small increments. Staring down at the inventory sheet on the counter top, she really tried to ignore him, leaning away from him as he moved closer. Hand lifting she shoved at his arm to get room which he begrudgingly gave her.   
  
“What’re you doing?’   
  
“Inventory.’   
  
“Sounds boring.’   
  
“Nope, I really enjoy it.’   
  
    Her eyes flicked upwards towards the curtain that led to the museum, the tour should be ending any minute. Picking up the clipboard she moved behind the counter and started tallying things. All of which was bullshit, real inventory couldn’t be done until all the sales were done for the day. But she’d thought maybe she could subtly get rid of her shadow. It didn’t work, and he was getting more irritating by the second.

“C’mon, just a quick smoke. He won’t even notice!’

“Of course he would!’ she paused taking a breath to control her frustration. “The tour will be over any second.’

“Which you’ve been saying this whole time and we could have already enjoyed a quick one.’

    She did not gag, to her credit, knowing that he wasn’t talking about that. But it was still a close call, her eyes narrowing at him. Enough was enough.

“I. Am. Not. Interested. Get that through your head, you hoser!’

    She would have felt bad if he hadn’t spent the past, ugh it felt way longer than fifteen minutes, harassing her. As it was she was willing to deal with Stan lecturing her about snapping at customers if it meant that the guy would finally leave her alone. Turning to make her way back to the counter, she froze feeling his hand slap her low on the waist. Clearly he’d meant to aim far lower, and she turned to stare at him incredulously. When he smiled, shrugging his shoulders, Kytatrina narrowed her eyes and punched him right in the mouth. 

    There was a silence then. A crystalline peace that shattered when a woman screamed, rushing over to help the jerk who had landed on his ass in what had seemed like slow motion. Her feeling of victory only lasted a moment longer before her hand started to hurt, a lot. Lifting it she could see a gouge in the skin between her knuckles, blood seeping out of the wound. 

“What the hell happened here?!’ Stan roared as he came storming out from behind the curtain.

“That little tease punched my son in the mouth!’ 

    Tease? What?! White noise filled her ears as she glared at the boy standing behind his mother holding a hand to his mouth. Blood dribbled off his chin as he interjected with protestations of innocence, at least that’s what she assumed they were. She really wanted to hit him again, especially when he slanted her a smug look from behind the woman still screaming. 

    And she must have made some kind of move towards him because suddenly Stan’s arm wrapped around her waist and hauled her off her feet surprising her. The high pitched whining in her ears faded just in time to hear the woman finish making the demand that she be fired, and Stanley agree. It wasn’t until he mentioned the cops that she began twisting and writhing to try and get loose from the iron bar across her middle. 

“Sit.’ He barked at her as he dropped her in the chair by the dinosaur skull, a finger stabbing towards her when she immediately started to get up. “Stay. Put.’

    The look on his face had startled her, he looked livid. A very controlled, dangerous livid that she really didn’t want to go up against. But she also wasn’t dumb, if the cops were getting called she didn’t want to be there when they showed up. Fingers drumming the arms of the chair, she only sat there for another moment before jumping up and heading for the attic to find her car keys. 


End file.
